Traitor?
by Miss Charz
Summary: Cammie and Zach come face to face after graduation... what's up with Cammie? Who's she working for? Will her life ever be the same again...? - sorry for the bad summary, but they don't matter, right...? Rated K .
1. Meeting

We point our guns steadily at each other. Fingers poised on the triggers. Neither of us blinks as we stand there, ready to fire at any moment.

"Why, Cammie?" His voice sounds hurt, confused… _pleading_?

I swallow painfully and shake my head gently and slowly.

"I _had to_," I whisper, hoarsely, back.

"But _why _did you join _them_? They took your dad!"

I think I'm imagining things, but Zach's gun seems to drop a fraction of an inch.

"I don't have to explain anything." My voice is harsh and unfeeling, echoing slightly off the dusty, ghostly white walls.

He doesn't realise that I _have_ to do this; be who I am. For everyone. For _him. _They'll hurt them all if I don't.

"Cammie…" Zach speaks barely louder than a whisper, but I hear him clearly.

I can't believe that we're standing there, barely a year and a half after graduation, in the cold foyer of Macey's rarely-used Boston home, guns directed at each other.

My hands tremble slightly; shaking the gun, too.

Those eyes… _his _eyes… his mysterious dark eyes; they look at me with such sadness, but at the same time pain and anger. I've remembered them well. Hardly a night goes by when I don't dream of them.

A lump forms in my throat; painful and large. I swallow and try to stop the tears forming in my eyes. My lips tremble, so I purse them, angry at myself for letting my composure slip. I form the hard, virtually-expressionless mask I've relied on ever since I joined. It's served me well.

But I can't ignore Zach's expression as well as I can my own. His face is hollow, as if he hasn't eaten much lately, nor slept, judging on the dark circles under his eyes. His mouth is drawn into a thin line. He seems to have lost the playful, mysterious air I so dearly adored about him. I can't look away.

"Are you going to pull the trigger yet," I ask, tonelessly.

"Are you?" he shoots back at me, not literally of course.

"On three?" I joke slightly, as if lightening the mood is important.

His gaunt face breaks into a small smile.

"They'll be here soon," I inform him, rather breaking the moment.

Zach sighs. "I know, so will my people," he replies sadly.

We hold our guns, still directed at each other, less tensely now. I remember my mission; who I work for and why, but it doesn't seem important.

"Not long for a catch-up chat then, eh?" He laughs.

I grin slightly, and then shake my head.

"You always were the joker."

This time he smirks. We hear voices; they're distant, but gradually growing louder. I smile sadly at Zach who grimaces back.

"Back to plan A?" I ask, casually.

"Plan A?"

"Counting to three…"

He laughs again, but stops when voices come from above us; from the balcony. I look up to see the gorgeous caramel eyes of my bes— _former_-best friend, who's clutching a gun out in front of her, aiming at me.

We look at each other for a brief moment, before the gunshot echoes around the foyer and the hard, dirty marble comes rushing up to meet me much too quickly…


	2. The memory

**Right, so this is my second story, like, ever so please be kind **** I'm kind of nervous or self-conscious about my writing because I never think it's good enough. If you have any constructive tips, please share them with me. Oh, yeah, and also tell me if something doesn't make sense or there's spelling mistakes/grammar mistakes because these days the spelling and grammar on FanFiction is quite appalling. Anywayy, I'll let you get back to reading, enjoy! (I hope)**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothinnnnggg **** Ally Carter does**

Upon opening my eyes, I think back to my first ever CoveOps lesson, _notice things. _

The walls of the hospital room are a dull cream colour, the bed lies opposite the doorway (which I see has six rather large locks on it, and no doubt two guards on the other side) and is unusually comfortable. Something I haven't experienced in a _long _time. The walls hold nothing reassuring, only gruesome posters all talking about some disease or another. A small bedside table sits to the left of me but there's no hint of flowers or any other get-well-soon gift, as a regular hospitable room would have. Instead, there's a pair of handcuffs (most likely for me once I'm better), an alarm clock and an orange button, labelled 'ASSISTANCE'.

I look at the bare light bulb hanging crudely from the ceiling, and then I close my eyes. A few hot tears streak down the sides of my face, falling onto the hard pillow. I'm consumed by pain; the pain of the bullet, the pain of my loneliness, the pain that _is _my life. Before I know it, I'm crying my heart out. I curl into a protective ball, my stomach twinging slightly when I do so.

What a complete mess I've made of my life. I have completely and utterly ruined it, and you know the worst thing? I can never go back. Well, it seems that way, anyway.

I drift back into an uneasy sleep.

"_Just a regular coffee, please," I say kindly to the short lady behind the counter. _

_She smiles, types something into her cash register and takes the coins I'm offering her. She hands me a card with a number on it and I turn to wait by the leafy pot plant. _

_The café is strangely busy for a Tuesday afternoon. Almost all the round plastic tables are filled up with talkative, carefree customers. I smile to myself, enjoying the normality. That is, until I see him. There's nothing particularly significant about the balding man in the fraying coat who's looking at the cakes and slices on display, but for some reason, he looks very out of place. He notices me looking and gives me a subtle jerk of his head. _

'_Come here,' he seems to mouth._

_I stand completely still, all my spy training and instinct tells me he's dangerous. And, boy was I right. But, driven by sheer curiosity, I make my way cautiously over to him and pretend to be interested in a mouth-wateringly-good looking tart. _

"_Who are you? What do you want?" I hiss out the corner of my mouth._

"_That's not important," he mumbles back._

_I turn to look front on at him and notice his cold, dark brown eyes. He's looking at my own jacket and suddenly says, "Here, you've got a bit of fluff on your coat." With that, he reaches forward and brushes the imaginary bit of fluff away, whilst really slipping a small business card into my pocket. _

"_Thankyou…"_

_He nods and turns to leave the café, walking swiftly through the crowded place and not looking back, even when he slips virtually unnoticed out the door._

_I shove a hand into my pocket and pull out the card._

_Bradley Fountain_

_5:00PM_

_For a moment, I simply stare at the time and place, but then make up my mind to see what the guy wants. If he's CIA, then he'll know I only graduated one week ago. But then again, if he's CIA, he would have contacted me differently; more formally._

_At five o'clock I walk, checking for tails, to Bradley Fountain, which is only fifteen minutes away from Bex's apartment which I crash at regularly. There's hardly anyone around, but I see the same balding man standing beside the fountain, beneath a flickering streetlamp. I shiver, but realise it has nothing to do with the cold._

_This could all be a trap. I could be shot and dumped somewhere where I would never be found again. They could drug me and torture me for information. Many, many doubts course through my mind as I walk warily towards him. He sees me coming and leers. _

"_You came, then."_

"_I'm here, aren't I?" I fire back._

_He nods. "We have a… uh… _proposition_ for you, Ms. Morgan," he says silkily._

"_You do, do you? What is it? What could possibly be so important to the CIA that they have to ask me in complete secret?" I ask._

_He chuckles eerily and shakes his head. "No, Ms. Morgan, we're not the CIA. But we do want your help. You see, we know you value your friend's and family's' lives so why don't you hear me out. We are the Circle." At this I tense completely and reach for my gun, but his strong hand stops me. "Don't even think about it."_

"_What does the Circle want with me, now? Why haven't you kidnapped or killed me yet? Isn't that what you people want?" I hiss._

_He sighs; his skin looks a greeny-yellow colour underneath the poor light._

"_So many questions… As I was saying, we want your help. I am here to recruit you."_

I scoff at him. "What on earth makes you think I'd join you_?"_

"This." He holds up a picture of a bloodied body, his face barely visible beneath bruises and cuts, but I have no doubt who it is.

"_Dad…?" _

_The man sneers and says, "Yes, he seems keen to see you. Want your daddy to be let go and us to leave your loved ones alone? Join us and no one gets hurt. Don't join and we'll kill all of your precious friends. We'll even let you watch."_

_I'm shocked and speechless. Is there a way out of this? Can I knock him out and run? No, he'd just hurt Bex, Liz, Macey or my mum. I can't do that to them. They have to be safe, and if one of them died because of me, I wouldn't be able to live with myself._

"_How do I know my dad isn't dead by now?" I ask, my voice wavering._

_The man tucks the photo back into his jacket and laughs. "You don't. But your friends are very much alive."_

_I swallow, my eyes filling with tears. I don't see any way out of this. I can't make everyone hide for the rest of their lives. It just wouldn't be fair! So that's why I look down at my shoes and then back up at him and reply, "What do you want me to do…?"_


	3. Interrogation

**Hey, so here's the third chapter… I'm not sure where this story's going! But I'm trying to plan things out. I have a vague idea so hopefully all will be well. **

**I promise to finish it, because there's not much that's more annoying than a story that someone doesn't finish. Grrr it actually annoys me sometimes (Yes, I'm crazzzyyy!) **

**So… review? Please? I love to hear your comments, good and bad (but if you don't like my story – **_**don't read it!**_** Simple!)**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters or anything, and if I did, why would I be here? **

The nurse, Bertha, who is adjusting something on the monitor I'm attached to, looks very nervous. Her innocent, pretty, blue eyes keep darting back and forth between me and the screen. I bet they've told her I'm unhinged, dangerous and a murderer. And I don't blame her, either. If I were her, I'd be nervous too. She turns away from the screen and smooths my bed sheets quickly, as if I'm going to grab her wrists and strangle her.

"You'll be discharged tomorrow," she says nervously.

I nod to tell her I understand. But I know what she means. I'll be discharged alright, and then I'll be placed in the handcuffs I saw earlier and dragged away to the CIA for questioning. Whether that questioning includes torture or not, is a different matter.

"Thankyou," I croak back to her, because after two weeks of being here, I've been fed a minimal amount of food and I'm too weak to pick up the heavy water jug, which I swear hasn't been replaced in two years, judging by the bugs and dust floating on the surface.

She jerks her head and scrambles for the door, leaving me to my own dreadful thoughts again.

The last few days I haven't had any visitors. Only the doctors and nurses come into the room, and even then, they disappear _very _quickly. Not one of my friends has come to see me. Not that I blame them, of course. I betrayed them, just not for the reason they think.

I slept strangely well, and woke up as the sun rose. The room was bathed in an oddly beautiful orangey light. For a moment, I imagined myself normal and happy again. But then one of the guards stationed outside my door came bursting in and broke the moment. He let a doctor and her assistant nurse in, before they all walked over to me.

"Well, Ms. Morgan, ready to be discharged?" asked Dr Jenson.

Actually, I was anything _but. _ But they still practically drag me from the bed and downstairs to the reception desk. After numerous papers are signed, the two guards handcuff my hands behind my back and shove me through the sliding front doors and straight into a black, secure van.

It speeds off immediately, causing me to become unsteady on my feet. Without the use of my hands, I stumble and hit the edge of the van before any of the guards can help me. The force causes me to black out.

The first thing I note when I wake up, yet again, is the cold, hard steel of the CIA interrogation bench, which I am handcuffed to. I look up as someone enters the room. It's the Assistant Director of Interrogation herself.

She's a tall, strong-willed looking woman who wears her hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her high cheekbones and thin, pointed nose make her look very serious. I have no doubt that her heels are designed to be able to kill anyone in at least fifteen different ways. They've got nothing on my old ones though; _they _were also a phone and could be used twenty-six different ways.

"Ms. Morgan," she starts, once she's dropped a file onto the table and sat down. "Do you realise what you've done?"

I do, but I don't say anything. The Circle trained me not to. They even practised torture methods to make sure I wouldn't blab. They didn't need to waste their time, anyway. I wouldn't endanger my friends' lives by saying anything.

"Ms. Morgan, answer the question!" When she walked in, I noticed a small name-tag on her skirt which read _Allison Lowe – Assistant Director of Interrogation. _

I sigh and lean back in my chair, as far as the handcuff will let me.

Allison shakes her head and picks up the folder. "Cameron Ann Morgan... Daughter of MIA Agent Morgan and Headmistress of the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Women… Graduated from said school… Unknown personal relationships… Unknown place of residence… Recruited by the Circle of Cavan nineteen months ago… Been discovered on numerous missions for the Circle of Cavan…" she reads from the folder.

I just stare at her. She looks back, unblinkingly, with her harsh, light brown eyes. She doesn't smile or talk about my grades at Gallagher. I guess because none of it matters. What matters is _why I did it._

"You see, Ms. Morgan, what gets me interested is why you would work for the people who kidnapped and supposedly killed your father… why help them when you know they ruined your life by taking away your _own _father? It doesn't make sense," Allison tonelessly says, leaning forward on her elbows.

Silence.

"Why? You can tell us. We won't hurt you."

Silence.

"You are in so much trouble, Ms. Morgan. You are being charged with treason to the CIA. You will go to jail for a _very _long time, so why not speak up and help us?"

Silence.

Allison sighs and sits back in her chair.

"Shall we see if you'll be more cooperative tomorrow? If not, we might have to revert to some, uh, more _persuasive _methods," is what she says before she stands up from her chair and leaves the interrogation room.

I just slump my head back onto my arms and rest. Will this ever end?


	4. Infection

**Hey, I'm starting to quite like this story. I really, really hope it's not cliché or anything. That's important to me. Also, I'm trying to add details and more information in this story. My other story (I don't really like it at all) is empty and quite boring. **

**So I hope you're enjoying it. Please review and tell me what you think, I'll to take it a good way if it's a bad review. Because you need bad reviews to become a better writer! **

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, in case it wasn't obvious! :D**

I have to admit, the cell isn't that bad, actually. Sure, it's nothing to brag about, but it's much better than some places I've stayed at before. Like that time in Peru at the old backpackers'. There's a small, rickety bed pushed up against the wall, a small sink and a table with two drawers. I slump onto the bed, thankful they unhand-cuffed my hands before locking me inside.

I bite my lip, pondering the depth of trouble I'm in. The Circle won't bother breaking me out, will they? It'd be too much of a risk, of course they won't! I wonder how my old friends are and what they're doing now. I wonder if Bex ever got into MI6 like she so dearly wanted to, and if Liz continued on into the CIA's lab. Macey wouldn't be free to do as much as the others because of her celebrity-like status, but I bet she would have something to do with the CIA, perhaps in Concealment & Disguise or something of the sort.

Just thinking of them all, and the good times we used to have, makes me extremely sad. I'm glad they're alive and well, but can't help but think how they'll never want to speak to me again. Before I can stop them, tears run down my face and I'm sobbing into the pillow, my heart just about breaking.

At 12:56AM my head is absolutely pounding. I feel dizzy and nauseous. I slide off the bed and slowly walk over to the door and knock quietly on it.

A face appears on the other side of the barred window on the door.

"What?" he grunts, clearly tired.

"I – I need the toilet…" I mumble, feeling even queasier.

He shrugs, grabs my arm and drags me down the uninviting corridor, the other guard, this time a female, trailing cautiously behind.

"You," he growls, pointing her, "go with her." He then points at me.

The guard escorts me through the door and waits directly outside the toilet cubicle.

I finally give in to my stomach and throw up. My throat burns and I have tears in my eyes as the guard knocks on the door and asks, "You alright in there?"

Before I can reply, I'm throwing up again, whilst my head pounds.

Once I feel a little better, I open the cubicle door and walk over to the sink, splash my face with cold water and rinse out my mouth.

The two guards, unfeeling as ever, escort me back to my room, but we never get there because halfway to the door, I collapse on the concrete floor, unable to stand. My vision spins and blurs before completely blacking out.

_All this unconsciousness can't be good for me _I think once I become conscious again.

I'm in what I presume to be the CIA infirmary, lying on a bed. There are two people in quiet discussion in the corner, but I can understand what they're saying because I know how to lip-read.

''_Is she alright now?" _The man asks the lady in the apron.

'_She should be fine. We've given her medication which will remove the infection, and then you'll be able to interrogate more. Your people should have been watching her condition more carefully. She could have died!" t_he woman replies, rather shortly.

'_Frankly, Ms Herman, I don't care."_

And with that, he glances one last time at me and leaves the room. The nurse smiles over at me and picks up a glass of water from her desk.

"Here, have this. I'm sure you're thirsty," she says, handing me the cool glass.

"Thankyou," I tell her, quietly and sincerely.

All she does is smile and shuffle through some papers on her desk.

"You were quite ill, Ms. Morgan. Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"They wouldn't care."

The nurse sighs and turns her back. She touches the flowers on her desk.

"My fiancée sent me these, you know? He's such a sweet man, so kind and gentle. His name's Henry and we're getting married next June."

I have absolutely no idea why she's telling me. Maybe she's just a nice person or maybe she's an interrogator in disguise. Whoever she is, she seems genuinely kind.

"Oh, that's so adorable! He's a lucky man, I bet." The words slip out my mouth before I can stop them, and she blinks, clearly not expecting me to say much back to her.

We talk for a while, and to my surprise, she doesn't mention anything about my past or any choices I've made. When I'm half-dragged back to my cell, I feel as if I've made my first new friend.

Only a matter of hours later, I am, yet again, taken to the interrogation room.

Only this time, it's not Allison who enters the room, it's Bex.

**I'm going to try and update again sometime today, so watch out for it! :) Please review because after next chapter, I'd really like more reviews until I update... sorrryyy...**

**Okk, well I hope you're enjoying the story! Tata!**

**- Miss Charz**


	5. Former friend

**Right, so I'm still not sure where this is all heading! Ahhh! Oh, well, I'll have to think fast…**

**I love getting reviews! They make me feel inspired to keep writing. Your opinions are important to me! So please review and yeah... enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: (okay this is getting really annoying and I think you know I DON'T own anything… so this is the last one for the rest of the story, okay?) I'm do not own anything ****Ally Carter does… check out her AMAZING books… currently reading Heist Society… **

She doesn't quite meet my eyes as she sits down in the chair that Allison so recently occupied. I can tell she's got something on her mind, but I really can't figure out her emotions.

It seems an age before either of us speaks.

"Why did you join the Circle of Cavan, Ms. Morgan?"

_Ms. Morgan… _Bex never called me that! But things have changed… a _lot. _

I don't have a clue what to say to her, so I just swallow and shake my head.

Her gorgeous caramel eyes look at my own for the first time since she entered. I remember them well, not only from just before she shot me, but also from all those years we were roommates, classmates and _best friends. _

She slams her palms onto the steel, table and gives me a hard, cold look.

"You can play stupid, you can keep silent, you can ignore our questions, but can you ignore the guilt you feel? Can you just forget everything you did, just like _that_?" she says quickly and impatiently, snapping her fingers when she says 'that'.

I clear my throat and break her intense, mad gaze, looking down at my fingernails.

"Dammit, Cameron! We loved you! We trusted you! We thought we were protecting _you_!" she screams at me before turning her back to me and gripping her hair. "Did you _ever _care for any of us? Hm? Was getting close to Zach simply a bloody charade?"

Somehow, the words of my former-best friend pierce my heart; digging in deep, causing tears to form in my eyes. I stay silent, not trusting myself to speak.

She lets out a frustrated sigh and snatches up the folder Allison had yesterday.

"You are a traitor! I thought you were my _friend_! I _never _want to see your face again!" And with that, she wrenches the door open and slams it, hard, behind her.

A massive wave of sadness envelops me as the echo dies, and a tear rolls down my cheek. I notice my reflection in the one-way mirror. No doubt highly experienced operatives are behind it right now, studying my every move. More silent tears follow the first and I bury my face in my hands to stem the flow. I'm trapped in this never-ending universe of pain…

Days pass… minutes tick by… the sun rises and sets… and all I can think of is the hurt, angry expression on Bex's face. The same expression is probably reflected on all the others I knew.

Somehow, I'm starting to lose track of time. So I'm quite disorientated when, one day, the door to my cell opens and in slides a masked figure. The figure is hard to distinguish between a male or a female, but when it speaks, the voice is too manly to be anything but.

"Get up," he says in a low, rough voice.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" I ask, sitting up immediately.

The man shakes his head and strides over to me, then grabs my wrists and drags me upright. I try kicking him away but he stops me before I can.

"Don't even bother. I'm here to help. I'm going to get you out," he says slowly.

I don't recognize the voice, or the body, but he could be disguised. He drags me to the door and peers out. I see the foot of one of the guards lying limply.

"Are they dead?" I whisper.

He shakes his head. "Knocked out."

We sneak as quietly as we can through the corridors, avoiding people. But I know the cameras have seen us.

But as if reading my thoughts, my saviour says, "Cameras are out."

I breathe a small sigh of relief, but I know there's no way in hell the CIA is going to let me simply waltz out the front doors, waving a cheery goodbye to them. But of course, the man has a plan. He pulls me into a supply closet and hands me an outfit.

"Change. Now." Is all he grunts.

And then it dawns on me. We're hiding in plain sight.

**Hmm... bit intense? Sorry if it is :) I'll try make it a little lighter!**

**Rightio, keep reviewing! :D**

**-Miss Charz**


	6. Escape

**Wow… we're at chapter six already… hope you're liking the story. Yeah, so suggest things to me. Tell me what you like and don't like! Oh and Zach will be back (haha, rhyming) soon.**

**And just so you know, I'm trying to lengthen up the chapters, because I like long chapters. **

**Oooookay, enjoy!**

Ten minutes later, I've adorned the outfit and am adjusting the wig, making sure it covers my messy hair.

The man turns back to face me. He takes my forearm and says, "Right, I'll meet you out the front."

I swallow, taking in what he said.

"Why can't I come with you? Hiding is what I do best," I insist.

But he shakes his head and pushes me out of the supply closet with a small, "_Good luck…_"

It's a long walk to the front area of the building. I pass many offices and locked rooms, carrying a clipboard to make myself less conspicuous. I feel a little déjà vu from the night on the train at the political party. The ID on my shirt allows me through various doors before, to my utter relief, I enter into the main entrance.

"Hey, you! Wait a moment!" a voice behind me calls.

I don't obey the command, though. I just quicken my pace and almost reach the doors but a firm hand grips my upper arm. I turn to see a handsome, young security guard.

"Could I see your credentials please, ma'am?"

"Oh, well, I'm in a little bit of a hurry, sir. If you'd please excuse me," I giggle, batting my eyelashes, hoping to put him off.

But he's not stupid.

"Your ID please, ma'am," he says firmly, holding out a hand.

I unclip the fake ID and hand it to the security guard. He glances at it for a moment, while I hold my breath.

I almost think I've gotten away with it, but then he leans towards me and whispers, "_You need to readjust your nose._"

I gasp as he makes a grab for me, but I move quickly, dodging his outstretched hands. They've sealed the entrance, which was also my escape exit, so I have no choice but to head back the way I came. I feel hands grab my waist put I aim a difficult punch over my shoulder and the hands release me. I hammer back through the corridors, pushing everyone out of my way. Once they're a reasonable distance behind me, unable to see me, I slow down, blending in with the crowd of workers all sitting at their desks. I slide into an unoccupied seat and seize the telephone, pretending to talk into it. I pull off my wig while no one is watching and kick the brown cardigan I was wearing before underneath the desk.

The security guards come thundering in the room and all the workers look up. Many have looks of complete surprise on their faces. The handsome security guard narrows his eyes and walks slowly through the room, surveying every single person intently.

"Ms. Morgan, you are around here somewhere and I _will _find you…" he hisses.

That's when a petit blonde comes to my rescue. A very familiar petit blonde…

"She went that way!" exclaims Liz, pointing towards a door at the opposite end of the hallway.

The security guard narrows his eyes even more at Liz, but follows her direction, gesturing to his colleagues to follow.

Once they've left the room, I breathe a small sigh of relief and put down the phone. I stand up slowly and inconspicuously walk to the door I just ran _back _through. What I don't notice, is Liz also walking to the same door.

"Walk, just walk. Don't stop and don't act suspicious. I'll get you to the front…" she murmurs, barely audible.

I nod briefly and walk casually by her side as we reach the entrance again. This time, no one stops me and it's _such _a relief to feel the calm breeze on my skin again. I smile in the warmth of the sun, but realise the mysterious man would not have waited this long for me in the car park. I'm about to slip away, but Liz has other ideas. She pushes me towards a beat-up minivan and virtually shoves me in the passenger seat. She reverses quickly and speeds off out of the car park.

She doesn't speak the whole way home, just stares, quite hostilely, at the road in front of her. I have no idea where we're headed, but that's not the main worry on my mind right now.

"Liz…" I begin, not knowing how to end.

But she just ignores me

I don't dare speak until the low rumble of the engine ceases. Through the window, I see a block of cute, red-brick flats; Liz's apartment.

She slams the car door behind her and sets off at a brisk pace towards the front, glass doors. She types in a twelve-digit code (7692-6408-1936) and the door opens with a loud _buzz._ When we're in the elevator, Liz presses the button for the fifth floor and sniffs quietly. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her eyes growing gradually redder, tears forming in them, too.

I'm about to say something, but the elevator _ding_'s open and we head towards apartment 512. Liz unlocks the door and storms inside, not waiting for me.

It's a cute place, slightly ruined by the fact she has a load of new gadgets and software lying around the place. The small kitchen, lounge room and dining area are all in the first room, which then has a door leading off to Liz's room and the bathroom.

Liz returns from her room with a pillow and a blanket and throws them at me.

"You sleep out here."

Well at least she's said something. I chuck them in the corner and walk closer to her.

"Liz… please… let me explain," I beg quietly.

She takes a step back, tears now coursing down her face, shaking her head.

"Jonas will be home soon. I'm going out; I can't be here with you. I just _can't_…" She sniffs, grabbing up her purse and keys before leaving me alone in the apartment.

So I curl up on her couch and cry. I feel so weak. It's hours before I can fall into a teary sleep.

I'm awoken by the front door slamming. My whole body tenses.

"Liz…?" I call out, hoping she's calmed down a little.

"Who's that? Who's there?" a familiar male voice replies, panicked.

I stand up from the couch and find myself face to face with Jonas. All colour drains from his face at the sight of me.

"_Cammie_?" he asks, disbelievingly. Jonas blinks rapidly, as though trying to wake from a dream.

I nod my head slowly, and walk around the couch so we're not two metres from each other.

"What are you doing here?" he questions, placing down his laptop bag.

I clear my throat nervously. "Uh, Liz let me in. I… I just… I need time to sort things out. I really do. But I'm – they've trapped me…" I stutter out.

Jonas looks puzzled at my rather confusing answer.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. "I'll be going, then…"

I make for the door, but Jonas reaches out and catches my arm, dragging me back.

"At least stay for dinner."

Somehow, an hour and a half later, I find myself sitting at the table chatting away to Jonas. He seems the only one out of all my old friends who doesn't hold such a grudge.

"I don't understand why you joined… but I understand how you feel. And you're back, now. You're safe again… you won't go back to them, will you?" he asks after we finish debating the new practices the CIA uses to train its new employees.

I look down at my plate of microwaved lasagne and poke at it.

"They don't let people go that easily. They'll know I've escaped from the CIA. They'll come for me," I tell him, my eyes burning from forming tears.

He doesn't stand up and hug me. He doesn't comfort me at all. But that's just Jonas. He only sits there, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

"_They'll come for me…_" I repeat in a whisper.

He looks startled at my words, but I can tell he knows they're true.

"We'll hide you. I promise," Jonas finally says.

I shake my head, wiping my tears. "No, I won't put you in any more danger. Staying here tonight is risky enough!"

He glances down at his entwined fingers and sighs.

"We can figure out a cover—"Jonas begins, but doesn't finish because at that moment, Liz walks through the door, looking tired and sad.

Her small figure droops wearily as she looks between Jonas and me.

"Trying to get close to my fiancée, now? What more information could you possibly need for the Circle?" she snaps.

I open my mouth, but decide it's best if I don't say anything.

But Jonas speaks up. "No, Liz, we were just talking. It was nothing to do with work." 

She rolls her eyes and storms into their bedroom. I glance over at Jonas, who seems deflated. He lets out a deep sigh and follows his fiancée, smiling a small _goodnight _to me before he shuts the door.


	7. Rico & Alvar

**Hey, sorry if her escape from the CIA was a bit easy… I just didn't know how to write it. Originally, the security guards caught her, but I decided to change it so that she escapes. **

**Rightio… there's a tiny bit of Zammie in this chapter for those of you who love them so much **** (I'm a fan too! – it's just I never know how to do justice to their relationship, so I don't write so much about it!) *sigh***

**Well, enjoy chapter seven **

As it turns out, Jonas and Liz's apartment is incredibly escape-proof. There's no access to the roof… the windows have some sort of unbreakable seal on them… I can't find any vents or anything… the balcony door is locked with at least five big locks… not to mention the bullet-proof glass.

Defeated, I slump onto the couch, rubbing my eyes. But then it comes to me… _how could I have been so stupid? _The front door! Who expects someone to escape in the most obvious way? Besides, Gallagher did teach us very efficient, handy tricks which could get any door open in 26 seconds max.

Quietly, I sneak into the gadget-room and start ruffling around for the small contraption I'm in so much need of.

Liz, as predictable as ever, has hidden it in the bottom drawer of her desk in a small box labelled _Liz's Lock-Breaker. _I roll my eyes at her foolishness and snatch up the box. Within seconds, I've taken it out and have made my way over to the door. I'm just about to attack the locks when the thought comes to me. I can't exactly leave without thanking Liz…

_Liz, _

_I know you don't want to listen to me right now, but I have to tell you that I'm so grateful for your help. You always were there for me and I'll never forget you. Thankyou. But I'm also so, so sorry. I'm not going to apologise for joining them, but I am going to apologise for deserting you, Macey and Bex. You guys were always there, especially when I needed you most. I should have explained it, I should have done it better, but at the time, I saw no way out. A letter can't explain it all, so I hope that one day we'll meet again somewhere, someplace I can actually tell you the whole story. I badly need to. So, for now, thankyou, again. And you too, Jonas._

_-Cammie_

I left the note on the dining table and set back to work on the door. I think I broke an all time record with that thing. The locks had clicked open in 18 seconds flat! I eased silently out of the apartment, careful to not make any noise shutting the door. And that's when I remember that to use the elevators past 12PM, you have to have a special key-card, and Liz's was around her neck…

Cursing myself for being so stupid, I know there was no way I'll be getting the key at this time of night, and my escape can't wait 'til morning! I realise there must be another way! As if on cue, I notice the small square on the ceiling, where builders and electricians could gain access to the ceiling, and which no doubt connected onto the floor of the elevator lobby above.

I rush across to it and drag the musty couch underneath it. When I stand on it, I can just reach the ceiling, thankfully.

"Come on…" I mutter to myself as I push up with all my might, lifting the heavy slab.

Once it's free, I shove it to the side and haul myself upwards. Glad the P&E teacher at the Gallagher Academy made us practise our chin-ups until we were good enough to do one hundred and fifty in a row. Inside the low area, of the attic-part, I have to crouch because there's not enough room. It's very dark and dusty, and many spiders dangle from the thick, steel beams. I re-block the access to the room again by sliding the slab back over the square hole. I repeat the whole process; all the while telling myself that going downwards would have got me caught by security sensors, and that even though going up was tiring, it was the quickest way out. Six heavy slabs later, I emerge onto the windy roof, shivering.

My hair whips my face as I survey the edge of the building, searching for foot and hand holds. I quickly map out the easiest way down and brace myself for the adrenaline rush I'm above to have. I try not to look down as I lower myself over the side of the roof and place my feet on two jutting-out bricks. It's ten and a half terrifying minutes before I'm safely back on the ground, hiding in the shadows, as I do often.

I briefly glance up at the balcony to Liz's apartment for one last time, before running off into the darkness.

The bright lights of the city are gradually growing dimmer behind me, as I trudge along the dirt path I discovered not long ago. The night – or morning – air is crisp and cool, biting into my skin, causing Goosebumps to appear. A bird caws somewhere off in the distance, startling me slightly.

When I reach the side of the highway, the _vroooom _of a car grows louder and louder, approaching at a fast rate. I expect it to pass right by me. I expect it to continue along the dark road, oblivious of the fact that a lonely girl is wandering, knowing where she is, but being completely lost at the same time. I expect all sorts of things, but the car actually slowing down and a Brazilian man poking his head out the window is not high on my list.

"Hey, you need a ride?" he calls, his accent thick.

I bite my lip, calculating the risks and possibilities, but the fact that I have no idea where I'm going, makes me nod and walk around the passenger side of the car and slide in.

As it turns out, Rico, the driver, and his brother Alvar like to drive _really _fast, which isn't such a _bad _thing, more like a _terrified-for-my-life _type thing. Oh, and they also like to sing. Loud. Especially along to their sister's latest single, _Mamba Moves. _

Rico doesn't snoop about my life. He doesn't ask why I'm walking, alone, at just past midnight, along a dark highway. And better yet, he doesn't want to know specifics about where I'm going. But I have no such luck with his brother.

"So, _bela, _is there a man in your life?" he asks, curiously.

I laugh. "Is that your subtle way of asking me out?" I tease.

But Alvar toothily grins and leans forward in the back seat. "No, that's my subtle way of asking if you have a boyfriend. You see, Rico here needs a woman to liven up his life ever since – what was her name? _Aldene_? _Benita_? – anyway, ever since he had his heart broken a few months ago."

Rico grimaces and says, "It's _Aidia, _and no, Alvar, I do not need a woman to satisfy me. I have my car! Anyway, if Aidia wants to run away with some Belgian Bungee-Jumping pom-pom, then she can run away with some Belgian Bungee-Jumping pom-pom. His fanny-pack made him quite pathetic in my eyes."

I laugh even louder at this. "Belgian Bungee-Jumping pom-pom?" I inquire, not entirely sure I want to know.

Alvar nods semi-solemnly, choking back a grin.

"Ah, come now, _bela. _Surely there's someone out there for you…"

My smile slips slowly off my face and I shake my head sadly.

"I used to think there was, but as it turns out, I did something completely stupid and now I have no chance of him ever forgiving me," I blurt before I can stop myself.

Alvar narrows his eyes, playfully, at me.

"You didn't become a dog-food taster? Or a kinky stripper, did you?" he asks.

I splutter, at a loss for words.

"_No_!" I finally choke out as the two brothers laugh loudly.

Sensing my embarrassment, Rico reaches forward and turns up the volume on his sister's second album, _Sunshine Party._

And as Rico increases our speed, we all sing along with the chorus at the top of our voices.

When Rico stops at a motel to let me out, he hands me a business card and says, "I'm in the transport business. So if you ever need a car, train, horse, helicopter or Air Force One, or something small like that, give me a bell."

I smile appreciatively and thank him for his kindness. Once they speed off and are swallowed by the darkness, I walk halfway through the town and find a tiny backpackers' to stay the night at.

I collapse onto the, let's face it, rather mouldy, uninviting bed and I close my eyes thankfully, not caring that it's now 1:46AM and that I have to be gone by 8.

It feels like seconds before I'm being woken up by someone hitting me over the head with a pillow and screaming my name.

"Wake _up_, Cammie!" the familiar voice screeches, her voice reverberating in my eardrums.

I open one eye sleepily and glance at the fading alarm-clock. 7:24AM. I'm going to _kill _whoever this psycho is.

But as I open both eyes, I know I'd have little chance against Macey McHenry herself.

She looks angry. Very angry.

"_You _have some explaining to do and if you don't get up right now, I'm going to use that Hinskley Manoeuvre you taught me, when we were seniors, on you."

I sit up immediately, and instantly regret it because I feel lightheaded all of a sudden.

"_Macey_?" I ask, incredulously.

"Yes, now get out of that bed and be downstairs in eight minutes," she orders loudly, slamming the door behind her as she leaves the tiny room.

Considering I have no luggage to speak of, I wash my face in the female public bathroom and am downstairs in five.

Macey turns around as I walk down the rickety stairs and into the gloomy foyer. She looks as glamorous as ever, not to mention stunning. Her face wrinkles at the sight of my dirty, smelly clothes but she doesn't say anything. Yet.

"Car's out the front."

"I just have to p—" I begin.

But Macey interrupts. "I've already paid."

As soon as we're in her small, light blue car I turn and look properly at my friend. She, of course, is much prettier than me. Her dark, long hair is as sleek and shiny as ever. Her slender face radiates a sort of happiness, but her eyes have a sadness about them, behind all the beauty.

"So… where are we going?" I ask, causally.

She doesn't reply for a moment, but simply pulls out of her parking spot and turns onto a main road.

"My place," she eventually says, not quite meeting my eyes.

"And… why are you here?"

This time Macey's face breaks into a small smile. "You're safer with me."

I look out the window at the small, aged houses which are whizzing by and I _feel _safe. The kind that's like a hug from your mother, or any other loved one.

Half an hour – okay, twenty-eight minutes – later, Macey turns left into a subtle street. I wouldn't have noticed it if it hadn't been for the fact Macey had actually turned into it.

"We're home!" she exclaims, cutting the engine in the driveway of a cute, modest cottage. The front of the house is covered in some very clichéd vines. Flowers line the path up to the front door.

"Very… not you…" I remark.

Macey ignores me and unlocks the front door. She throws her keys at a little hook and, thanks to her amazing aim, they catch on it.

She drags me, by the arm, to her bathroom and tells me to shower. The she shuts the door and leaves me alone in the white-tiled, gleaming room.

I run the hot water, and gratefully step under it. I use way more soap and shampoo than I usually would, just to get rid of the dirt and rather unpleasant odour about me.

Only when I step out and wrap a towel around me, does it dawn on me that it would be incredibly pointless to change back into my old clothes. So I open the bathroom door cautiously, and go to find Macey.

But instead of Macey, I see a tall, broad-shouldered figure leaning against the kitchen bench, looking at the ceiling.

A figure I remember well.

And the last time I saw him, we were pointing guns at each others' face.


	8. Macey's house

** :D Ooh la la, chapter eighhtt! **

**Well, I hope you like the story so far. I know it's a bit dull and slow at this point, but I promise I'll make more action soon **

**Oh and please request stuff that you want more of so I can include it!**

**Well now, I'll shut up and let you read…**

I splutter, frozen to the spot momentarily. And then I remember I'm only wearing a _towel. _I quickly race back into the bathroom and slam the door, before sliding down it and resting my head on my knees.

Oh. My. Gosh. What is he doing here? Did Macey tell him to come over? If she did, I'll put some sort of paralyser in her next drink, I swear.

Then there's a gentle knock at the door, so I get up and open it a tiny crack. Thankfully, it's only Macey holding a pair of black jeans, a purple top and some brand new underwear. I take the clothes from her with an appreciative smile.

Within two minutes, I walk back into the kitchen, all changed and fresh. My damp hair hangs messily around my shoulders.

Macey raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow at the sight of it and drags me back into the bathroom, while Zach looks on, amused.

She brushes it out and dries it a bit more, before tying it up in a loose bun. Once I'm deemed as reasonable looking, Macey and I return to the kitchen, where Zach's still standing with a smirk on his face.

Macey looks between us, and then grabs her keys off of the hook.

"I'll leave you two to catch up," she says, making her way to the door, then adding, "You make her cry, and you'll be _very _sorry."

With that, she disappears out the door and speeds off in her little light blue car.

"Well…" I say awkwardly once all noise of the car has completely faded away.

He just sticks his hands in his pockets and smirks even more. "Personally, I liked the towel better, Gallagher Girl."

I blush, trying not to remember the scene which occurred a few minutes ago.

"Do you want something to drink?" Zach asks, casually, as if he owns the place.

I nod slowly. "Water, please."

He turns his back to me and reaches for two glasses, and then fills them with orange juice.

"Uhh…?"

Zach just shrugs and walks over to me. "You're too thin. You need to eat something."

"Orange juice isn't food," I remind him as I take the offered juice and perch on the back of the couch.

"Closer than water." He smirks, taking a seat on a wooden chair.

I take in his appearance. Everything from the ruffled hair to his worn-out shoes, nothing goes unnoticed; so maybe that's why I see the mysterious, playful sparkle that has partially returned to his dark eyes.

"So… what have you been up to?" I ask, trying to break the silence.

"Oh, this and that," he replies, frustratingly.

I just stare at him, eyes narrowed.

Zach sighs and elaborates on his cryptic answer. "Most of my time has been dedicated to finding and capturing you and your little friends."

I wince a little at this and turn my head away.

He takes a step closer and says, "What happened, Cammie? Where did it all go wrong?"

I close my eyes as a tear dribbles pathetically down my cheek.

He takes another step.

I shake my head and place the glass of orange juice on the coffee table, as he takes yet another step towards me.

"Zach…"

But by now, there's hardly any space left between us, as I look up at his face, searching my own. His gaze is too intense to look at for too long, like looking at the sun, so I hang my head again, sniffing quietly. Then, I feel a warm hand on my face. His thumb strokes my cheek, wiping away the remaining tears.

He pulls me closer and kisses me deeply, one hand around my waist. Somehow, we make it around to the couch and lie down on it. His hands lace through my hair; the moment feels so perfect, until a loud crash of thunder brings me back to my senses.

The storm outside thrashes violently, and it causes me to remember everything. I can't be with him, anymore. It'll be putting him in danger, and that's something I'm not going to do. So, not knowing what to do, I run.

Running feels like I have a plan. Running feels like there's something I'm working towards to achieve. But most of all, running feels better than staying still.

I'm focusing on my completely ruined life so much that I don't notice the van until too late. It's coming much too quickly for me to run away. It reminds me of another night, though not quite so stormy, in D.C. And very soon, I'm running for a completely different reason.

To be fair, most spies could beat two attackers, who are roughly their size. Most spies could fight their way out of a headlock but kicking their attacker in the guts. Most spies could flip all the bad guys and run. But most spies wouldn't be able to focus on all this, _and _the tranquiliser gun the third accomplice pulls from his pocket and fires at you.

The last thing I see through the van doors before they're closed and before I black out is the vague figure of someone running, very fast, towards me, shouting my name…


	9. The Disk

**Seriously? Chapter nine? **

**Crikey… Anyway, as always, I hope you're enjoying it! If you are (or aren't) please tell me via review **** Oh, and also make suggestions, etc, because your opinions are important to me :D**

**Oh, and sorry if my writing hasn't been that great lately… I've had a lot of homework and not much time to work on this story :D I'll try better from now on, because good writing is good to read **

**Ta!**

To tell you the truth, I had always known that the Circle would come after me. After all, I know plenty of their secrets. Besides, they never completely trusted me with anything _too _top secret, because there'd always be the chance (in their eyes) that I'd desert my friends and tell the CIA everything. As if.

The cold cell is even gloomier in the dull, dawn light. The grey concrete walls are as icy and as cold as the people who own the building.

I look up when a short man slides silently through the door and points a gun at me.

"Get up," he growls, his voice low and heartless.

Standing up slowly, I show no emotion on my face. Perhaps if I can make them think I'm still part of them, then they'll let me go again.

The gun pushed firmly into my back, the two of us travel down a long hallway, and emerge into a harshly lit room. But the thing that really hurts me is the sight of Rebecca Baxter bound tightly to a chair at its centre. She doesn't look up as we enter, but continues to hang her head.

The short man locks the door after two more people, a man and a woman, come in after us.

"Alright, Ivan, let's get this started," the woman says, impatiently.

Ivan, the short man, walks over to Bex and unties her gag, but she still doesn't look up.

My heart wrenches painfully at the sight of her helpless, and my mind immediately begins to work out ways to untie her and then escape. I'm interrupted from my thoughts when the second man speaks.

"Ms. Morgan, what do you know about the Amber Disk?" he asks, roughly.

I frown a little. _Amber Disk_?

"I've never heard of it in my life. Now, let Bex go!" I reply loudly, my fists bunched up into tight balls.

But he just chuckles, humourlessly.

"Oh we might… if you retrieve the Disk for us."

I shake my head furiously. "I just told you, I have no idea what it is!"

The woman strides towards me and slaps me across the cheek. I stop myself from retaliating just in time, because I know it will only make things worse. I curse under my breath and rub my smarting cheek.

"You little _liar_!" she exclaims, harshly.

Ivan reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder and she calms down a little.

"Perhaps we should refresh Ms. Morgan's mind, a little?" he suggests, lightly.

She nods, scowling at me.

"Well, the Amber Disk holds information _very _dear to the Circle, and merely nine days ago, it was stolen from us by a deep undercover CIA agent. We, of course, chased him, but just before we could reach him, and, uh, _take care _of things… another unknown person jumped from the shadows, shot the CIA agent in the heart and ran off with the Disk. Ever since then, we haven't been able to trace it. We know it was you, Ms. Morgan, so don't deny it. Who else would do such a thing for their own benefit?"

I shake my head in disbelief. "That wasn't me," is all I can say.

But the three Circle agents don't believe me. The woman approaches me again and knees me in the stomach, causing me to cry out in pain and double over.

"That's where you come into this, little girl—"she hisses, but I interrupt.

"I'm _not_ little; I'm nineteen, almost twenty."

"—you are going to return the Disk to us, or watch your friend over here die. Better yet, you will be the one to pull the trigger," the woman continues, as if I hadn't said anything.

I swallow, my throat painfully dry, as tears well up in my eyes.

"_But I don't have the Disk to give to you!_" I exclaim, hysterically, looking over at Bex, who appears to be stirring a little.

"Then, we'll just have to be rid of your accomplice, then…"

But I step between Bex and the three people threatening me and cry, "No! No, I'll get it for you! Just give me some time!"

Ivan chuckles, as if something's hilariously funny. "Ah, I knew it would work. After all, that's what made you join us in the first place!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bex raise her head a little; slight comprehension appearing on her face. But at that moment, Ivan grabs my arm and raises the gun, again.

"You have one week to return us the Disk or, as we have explained, your friend will die…" he says in a dangerous voice as he pushes me out the door, gun against my back, once again.

They dump me back somewhere in the vicinity where they captured me in the first place. I watch as the van speeds off madly. Unsure where to go next, I stand up and brush myself off. Then I hear the clacking of heels behind me, and I turn to see a frantic Macey running as fast as she can, well, in four inch heels, that is, towards me.

"Oh, my god, Cam! Zach told me what happened and we've been looking for ages! We thought they'd kill you for sure!" she practically screams, enveloping me in a firm hug.

But I'm still frozen with anxiety for Bex.

"They… they have her!" I whisper.

Macey just pulls back, a confused expression on her face. "Have who?"

I swallow and look her in the eye, tears stinging my own. "_Bex._"

Macey takes me back to her tiny house and we sit in silence, clutching hot chocolates, waiting for Zach to return.

It's my fault. It's my fault. It's _my _fault.

That's all I can think, and I know it's true. I should have kept her safe. I should have made sure she was okay. _It's my fault_.

No tears come; I suppose there's no time for them. They won't do any good. They won't help Bex.

So, when Zach finally walks through the door, I feel completely relieved. We'll finally be able to get to work.

He walks towards me and places his hands on my shoulders.

"Cam… are you okay?" he asks, quietly.

Closing my eyes, I reply with the single sentence that's taking over my mind, "It's my fault."

He pulls me closer and hugs me tightly. "This _is not _your fault."

I rest my head on his shoulder and hug him back, feeling safe and more reassured. I remember his embrace well, and it calms me to feel it again.

"But it is!" I insist, which makes Macey snort cynically.

"As if this is your fault, Cam! These people have taken Bex and we're going to figure out a way to get her back. We are," she firmly says.

Pulling away from Zach and walking over to the couch, I know we need to start work on a plan. So I turn back to the two of them, my friends who believe me, smile thankfully.

"What do you two know about the Amber Disk…?"

As it turns out, Macey doesn't know much about said Disk, but Zach does. He knows all the codes and such needed to get into the vault which used to hold it, but he says they're changed each week by the assistant to the Director of the CIA. He knows what it contains, he knows what its importance was, and he knows who was sent to steal it.

"It was a six-month task. Andrew Hamlyn was sent to retrieve it by gradually getting closer and closer to the Circle's important agents, who would then tell him all the details. He eventually succeeded, and got away with the Disk, but they gave a chase. Then, all of a sudden, someone else jumped out of nowhere, shot him and stole the disk before completely disappearing. I was on desk duty, but I saw the tapes later… no one could figure out who it was, and, well, there were a _lot _of rumours going around that it was you…"

I look indignantly at him. "Why would I do that? Besides, didn't everyone think I was already on the Circle's side?"

Zach shrugs, casually, and Macey speaks up for the first time in a few minutes.

"Speaking of which, you have _so much _explaining to do and there's no way in _hell _you're leaving this house without doing so. And include the bit where you got kidnapped not an hour ago…" she says, leaning forward.

Looking away from their expecting expression, I stare at the intricate clock on the wall. But when Macey clears her throat, I sigh and turn back to them.

"Okay, I'll understand if you don't believe me, but I'll tell you the truth… all of it.

A year and a half ago, I met – well, ran into – a man at a coffee shop. He slipped me a note and we met up later. He told me… he said if I didn't join them, that he… they'd hurt you all. And I wasn't going to take chances. A few weeks after that meeting, they took me to a base of theirs in Cuba and began… training." I say it as quickly as I can.

Shaking back my sleeves, I show Zach and Macey the scars from the 'training' the Circle gave me. Macey gasps and Zach looks queasy and even sad.

"Anyway," I continue. "They kept me there for two and a half months, before I was allowed to come back to the US. But I couldn't face you guys, I just couldn't, so they gave me a place to stay and contacted me for missions regularly.

"They made sure I knew that if I ever tried anything stupid, you'd be the first ones to pay. So I just did what they told me to, and pretty soon my whole life was taken up by them. The day the CIA found out I'd joined the Circle, I was on a seemingly simple mission. It was really just a patch-up job, seeing as the last agents had left behind a few important things when they had to abandon their mission altogether.

"Together Louise and I got all the things together, but she set off an alarm by accident and in a matter of seconds, we were surrounded by the CIA. They threatened us with guns and all, but Louise had a smoke bomb in her pocket, for safety, and managed to cause a huge diversion, allowing us to escape.

"I suppose the Director was told what happened and who was involved. All of it just fell apart for me after that. The whole spy world seemed to be against me," I tell them, sadly.

I cast my eyes down, but feel a warm hand on my own.

"I wasn't," Zach simply says.

I scoff, not believing him.

"I _wasn't. _Honestly, all the time I was part of the team searching for you, I could never believe that you, of all people, would do something like that out of your own free will. I knew there was something else to the picture," he insists loudly.

Smiling at him, I notice him smirking.

"What's that for?" I inquire, puzzled.

"I've missed you, Gallagher Girl."

**Hope this chapter's okay **** I'm pretty proud, 'cause it's like 1 900 words :D**

**So, as always, please review and give me your opinion!  
**

**Thanks heaps for taking your time out to read this story **

**-Miss Charz**


	10. Midnight

**Chapter ten! Are we excited? Hmm… So who's your favourite Gallagher Girl fanfic writer?**

**Just wondering… :D**

**Oh and tell me some of your fave stories from the GG fanfics. I've read lots of stories that are complete crap, but then again I've read loads that are AWESOME **

**Some nice Zammie coming your way this chap.**

**K, so chapter ten is coming your way in…**

**Five…**

**Four…**

**Three…**

**Ah, heck I won't make you wait :D**

"So, I was thinking, we should make a list of all the suspects… that way, we can have a process of elimination…" Macey says, picking up a pen and a pad of paper.

Zach and I nod. This approach seems like the best so far.

"Now we actually have to think of suspects," points out Zach.

Macey bites the pen, frowning gently. "Always have to put a damper on the mood, don't you, Zachary?"

Zach just shrugs. "Just stating the obvious, McHenry."

"Guys! Can we focus, here?" I interrupt.

"Well… maybe if I get the Circle of Cavan files from the CIA, there might be some interesting names in there?" suggests Zach, after giving Macey a death-stare.

Nodding, I stand up. "Are we going?"

Zach looks incredulously at me. "Are you _kidding_? I'm not going to be able to get them now! I'll get the access codes to the filing cabinet tomorrow, when Sarah's actually at Langley."

"But we can't wait that long! We've _got _to help Bex, now!" I yell, hysterically.

"Cam, calm down! We will, but right now there's not a lot we can do, so can you _please _calm down! You can sleep in the guest room tonight," Macey says, soothingly.

I can't believe she's even considering sleeping, but, in a way, I know she's right. There's nothing we can do at the moment, so we should get some rest and save our energy for later, when we'll really need it.

Later, as Macey and I sit in the bathroom, she lectures me about the state of my pores. I know she loves Bex like a sister, but at the moment, it's sort of hard to believe seeing as I'm getting something smeared onto my skin.

"Uhh, Macey?" I begin. "What are you doing?" 

She rolls her eyes and continues applying the thick paste onto my face. "It's a fifteen minute face mask; it'll really help you feel better."

I don't ask how a gooey mask can banish my guilt, fear and shame, so instead I shrug and let her work her magic.

At nine thirty, Macey says goodnight, and disappears into her own bedroom, leaving me to aimlessly channel surf on the small TV in the guest bedroom.

She's given Zach her couch, and being a small house, it's a small couch. I kind of felt sorry for him earlier, as I watched her chuck him a blanket and a pillow.

Deciding there's nothing worthwhile on, I change into my pyjamas and crawl into the cold bed. With nothing behind my back, I can't sleep for fear of someone attacking me. I lie awake, tossing and turning, for hours, trying to fall asleep, but it's all in vain. Whenever I close my eyes, for some reason, my mind takes me back to all the bad times in my life.

The attack on the rooftop with Macey and Preston…

The tombs at Blackthorne…

The meeting with the Circle agent by the fountain…

The night Aunt Abby was shot…

The kidnapping and threatening of the Circle not hours beforehand…

It's all just too much, and the cold, hard bed does nothing to help.

I throw back the duvet and slide my legs out of bed. Without meaning to, I make my way into the lounge room, where Zach is. Only, he's not asleep. He's sitting up, resting an elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand.

I just lean against the doorframe, enjoying seeing him when he doesn't see me, for once.

But, outsmarting me as always, he says, "What's up, Gallagher Girl?"

Sighing, I straighten up and notice the time – 12:13AM.

"Can't sleep," is all I say.

He stands up and turns to face me.

"How come?" he asks, frowning.

I shrug. "Bad dreams."

Then he walks over to me, but stops barely a foot away.

"Do you want me to get you something? Macey? Water?"

Shaking my head, I uncross my arms and hug my stomach, withholding a shiver.

"Oh, okay…"

"Is the couch comfy?" I enquire.

He laughs lightly. "It's good enough."

I bite my lip. "Do you want t-… never mind," I begin, faintly.

"Want to what?" Zach never misses a beat.

"Oh, uh… nothing, forget I said anything."

"Okay…"

I turn to go back in the guest bedroom, but his hand on my arm stops me.

"Do you happen to like hot chocolate, marshmallows and tents at midnight?" he asks, a playful smirk forming on his lips.

This time it's my turn to laugh. "Who doesn't?" 

Thirteen minutes and forty-three seconds later, the two of us are sitting in a cosy and quite sophisticated 'tent' made from the blankets off of my bed. I'm sitting on a pillow and leaning against the back of the couch, Zach right beside me, clutching a deliciously-made hot chocolate, courtesy of Zach.

"Seriously, who taught you to make these?" I ask, barely concealing the amazement in my voice.

He laughs and sips his own. "I have my ways…"

Of course he does.

We chat about nothing and everything. He tells me about his life after graduating, what Jonas and Grant have been up to and even some about my mother.

"She and Joe got engaged just before the CIA 'found out' that you worked for the Circle. She was going to tell you, but couldn't get in contact. She's still headmistress at Gallagher, but her retirement is expected any day now. They got married about five months ago, I was invited. They looked happy, if that's any consolation," Zach tells me, almost sympathetically.

"Ah well, I suppose I could have a worse step-father," I joke.

_Step-father…_ that sounds so _weird, _especially when I still haven't forgotten my own, real father.

I place my drink to the side, where it won't be spilled and Zach does the same.

"Do you think this will all work out okay, Zach?"

He considers it for a moment, before smiling weakly, "I sure hope so, Gallagher Girl, I sure hope so…"

I turn my face so I'm looking directly at him.

"Me too," I whisper.

Then I realise he's leaning in, and that I am, too. Our lips meet in a blissful kiss, his warm hand on the back of my neck. A feeling of complete happiness overtakes my mind, blocking out all other thoughts.

When we break apart, I cast my eyes downward, not wishing to see regret in his. But as I force them upwards again, all I see is love. Or what I think is love, anyway.

We smile at each other, before lying down, arms entwined around each other.

I finally fall asleep in his comforting embrace…

"RISE AND SHINE!" With little sleep the previous night – or morning – I cringe at the loud words, like I've got a hang over or something.

"Seriously, Macey, could you be a _little _quieter?" I complain into the pillow.

"Are you _drunk_?" she ponders, disbelievingly.

In return for her outrageous question, I throw the pillow, hard, at her face and she finally goes away…

…Only to return not two minutes later with a bucket of water. Very, very _cold _water. Water that soon is being poured over my head.

"Oh, come on! I was getting up!" I scream, indignantly, jumping up.

She's smirking triumphantly. "Oh, good, you're up."

Cursing at her in various languages, I look around the makeshift 'tent' and notice Zach isn't there.

"Cam, did you make this all by yourself? And sleep in it, too?" asks Macey as she offers an arm, which I gratefully take.

She pulls me out and I shrug, wondering where Zach disappeared to.

"He's gone to Langley. He'll be back later… Now come and have some breakfast," Macey replies to my unasked question.

I follow her slowly into the kitchen hoping that today will be the day I can actually do something about my best friend's kidnapping.


	11. Blue Jumpsuits

**Ohh my goshhh**

**Can I just say that you guys are the best ever :D**

**No, seriously, you are!**

**All the reviews and everything just make me smile and want to write more!**

**So maybe next time I'll treat you to two chapters **

**Please keep up the reviewing, it's really great!**

**Yeah, and (as always) hope you're enjoying the story!**

Macey, as it turns out, is an _amazing _cook! Seriously, you'd think after all the years at Gallagher, and those before it where she never knew what her food was made out of, that she would have no idea! But no, her scrambled eggs are to _die _for. And that's not an expression I use lightly, considering the family (and my) occupation.

"My god, Macey, this is delicious! Where did you learn to cook?" I ask her, mouth full of eggs.

She just shrugs, humbly, and continues scrubbing away at the pan.

Somehow, I never pictured her as a domestic housewife…

I'm just washing down the eggs with some orange juice when the front door slams.

"Honey, I'm home!" quips Zach from the doorway.

Macey just grimaces, but I laugh.

"Home a bit early aren't you?" I ask.

Zach walks over to the kitchen bench where I'm sitting and places down a thick, worn manila folder.

"Well, you see, I have a _monster _of a headache, and getting the codes to the cabinet out of Sarah, the Director's assistant, really made me tired," he explains, over-dramatically.

Macey fakes a look of concern and flings the dishcloth at his face.

"That should cool down your fever, don't you think? And how on earth does flirting with assistants make you _tired_?" she asks, sceptically.

Zach pulls the dishcloth off his face and wipes himself dry with his shirt.

"Oh, trust me, it does."

Macey just '_tsk_'s at him, and picks the folder up from the bench.

"Well, you have been busy, haven't you," she remarks.

I just take it from her grasp and open to the first page. It takes an hour and twenty-four minutes, but I read through all of it, taking in every name and every piece of 'evidence' there is.

Every time I find a name of interest, I tell Macey, and she then writes it down on the piece of paper.

For some strange reason, she thought the best title would be…

**OUR HIT LIST**

"Uhh, McHenry… we're not actually out to _kill _these people, you know?" points out Zach, almost apprehensively.

She simply shrugs. "I know, I just thought it might make us seem a bit tougher. The-list-of-people-we-_think_-but-might-not-actually-have-stolen-the-Amber-Disk sounds a _little _seventh-grade-ish."

I just laugh at her, and read the six names we've come up with.

Martin McEwen

Charisse D'Tontelle

Alistair Martinez

Franko Huttera

Thomas Porter

John Smith

"_John Smith_?" I ask, doubtfully.

"What? It's such a common name, who's going to suspect a toothpaste-factory worker from Idaho, named John Smith?" Zach replies.

"Yes, but it might just be _too _common…"

Zach just sighs and looks over the list again. "Shall we get to work?"

Macey nods, but I'm already standing. Anything I can do to help Bex, I will.

Ten minutes later, we're all set and bundled into Macey's car. Zach insisted on driving, seeing as he thinks Macey 'drives like a Grandma'. He got a painful slap for his opinion.

He revs the car into life and we back out of the driveway at a _really _high speed.

Speeding down a deserted road, I'm reminded of my last car ride like this one.

"You drive like Rico," I comment.

"Who?" Macey asks.

"Just some hilarious Brazilian guy I met."

"You met a Brazilian guy?"

"What, Zach, jealous?"

"No, just wondering."

"Whatever."

I learn an important lesson during the next hour and a half. Never let Macey and Zach sit in the front together. They fight. A lot.

"This channel." 

"No, this channel!"

"Shut up, Zachary. Your song choice is _pathetic_."

"What, and yours _isn't_?"

"Drive faster!"

"I am!"

"No you're not!"

Eventually, I tire of their antics.

"Guys, shut up!" I yell, and they both fall silent. "Sheesh, you could be siblings…"

Macey shudders at the thought, but rests her elbow on the doorhandle and her cheek in her hand.

"Bex? Remember?" I remind them.

They look a little guilty as I say this, so I ask, "Who're we 'hitting' first?"

Macey smiles evilly and points to number 3. Alistair Martinez.

We drive for about thirty-four more minutes until we arrive at a posh, estate house perched at the top of a steep slope. Huge, wrought iron gates line the perimeter not so subtly.

"So how are we getting in, exactly?"

Zach just holds up three ugly, light blue jumpsuits with 'Mickey's Tech Help' written on the pockets.

"Oh hell no."

As we walk casually towards the front gate, and thus the intercom, Macey fingers her own jumpsuit, wearing a disgusted look.

"You could have chosen better uniforms! Ones that _don't _wash out my skin-tone!" she exclaims indignantly to Zach.

He just looks amused and shrugs.

"That was all I could find."

I laugh at Macey's vanity; trust her to worry about how she looks when we're trying to find something that will save our friend.

Zach speaks to a guard over the intercom and, surprisingly, she lets us in.

"What did you promise her, Zachary?" Macey asks, suggestively raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

Zach rolls his eyes at her and leads us up the steep driveway, each of us carrying toolboxes filled with equipment.

"So, who are we?"

"Carlos, Mandy and Patricia, employees of Mickey's Tech Help. We're here to fix a bug on his computers, so Macey and you can search for the Disk while I pretend to work on the computers, okay?"

Macey and I nod our understanding.

We finally reach the main house and knock on the huge, wooden front doors.

A short man with little hair and even fewer teeth answers the door, smiling a grin that impossibly seems to fit on his tiny face.

"What can I do for you?"

**Okayyy, this chapter is dedicated to The-Gallagher-Girl-Zammie, because she's awesome ;) and also because she commented on like every chapter :D**

**(And for being my 50****th**** reviewer!)**

**And also dedicated to Miriam C. Garnet. She's such a great reviewer **** I had a good laugh reading them! Glad I can make someone laugh out there!**

**I wrote a one shot the other day, so tell me what you think of it **

**And suggest stories to me please, 'cause I love reading your stories too. A good GG ff cannot be passed down…**

**P.S. = Omg yes, ****cookie-pocky-strawberry-love, Dreamless Wake is an AMAZING story (everyone should check it out). I loved it from the first chapter **


	12. Mess

**Wow, what chapter is this? Like 12 or something :D**

**Pretty proud…**

**(Is that a bit snobby?)**

**Sure hope not…**

**{{Just wanting to add in that, I'm not actually American, so my understanding of the laws are a bit rough… if understood at all… so yeah, if she's being charged for treason, just go with it :P Cause I didn't know what to call it at the time… maybe I'll change the charges later – but thanks for pointing that out to me **** }}**

**Anyway, this Author's Note is wayyyyyyy too long, so I'll shut up **

**Bon Appetite!**

**(Or is that happy eating…?)**

A few minutes later, we're given a full body-search, x-ray scan, and retinal scan (which will come out faulty, seeing as we're wearing special, laser-reflecting contacts) and then let into the computer and technology room. It's a complete mess.

"How are we ever going to find something so small, in a room which is so large and disorganized?" Macey asks, despairingly.

I just shrug and set to work, searching through piles and piles of documents while Zach taps away on the keyboard.

Macey sighs in defeat and joins me, sorting through countless masses of junk.

An hour and sixteen minutes later, we haven't found anything. Zach has fixed up Alistair Martinez's computer system, and is now helping Macey and I look through the very last pile.

"It's not here!" I exclaim, collapsing into a chair and fanning my face.

"It could be somewhere else in his house…" suggest Macey, earning an annoyed look from me.

"Please don't say that. We can't search this _whole _building!"

Zach chucks a file into a plastic box, which is perched precariously on a bookcase, and turns to us.

"Maybe he doesn't have it. After all, we still have five other names…" he points out.

"But what if he does?"

Macey has a point. What if he _does_, in fact, have the Disk, and we've overlooked it, or haven't been looking in the right place. It could be the difference between life and death for Bex; and, quite possibly, me.

Tugging at her jumpsuit, Macey throws the equipment we brought in, back into the toolboxes and picks them up.

"Well, we better move on to the next name, then," she says with a sigh.

Back at Macey's house, I shower quickly, and drop onto her couch, ready to fall asleep.

"No time for sleeping, Cam, we've got work to do," interrupts Macey, loudly.

I groan, but raise my head, wearily, anyway. She's holding blueprints and sheets of paper covered in codes.

"Whose house are those blueprints to?"

"Number four; Franko Huttera. He's got a very clever amount of security," Macey tells me, sounding impressed.

"Don't you mean 'annoying'?"

"Well, yes, annoying for us, but clever for him."

We study the blueprints, calculating time factors, security measures and effectiveness, and eventually come up with the quickest and safest way in. But we're going to have to get dirty.

"When are we doing this one?" asks Zach, entering the room, his hair wet.

"Hopefully tonight," replies Macey.

At about 7:43PM, we change into dark clothing – black jeans, shirts, shoes – and head back out to Macey's car. This time I decide to drive, seeing as Macey and Zach can't get along at all.

They have a scuffle for who calls shotgun, but after a _very _hard pinch from Macey, Zach gets the backseat.

"Are you two done acting like five-year-olds?" I ask them, amused.

Macey just huffs, straightens her tight, black shirt and nods.

And then we're off.

**Hey, I'm really sorry about this short, crap chapter; I promise I'll make it up, sometime **** Pinky promise! **

**It's just that I'm in a rush to get somewhere and yeah, I didn't type much the other night…**

**Sorry guys! (Or girls)**

**Oh and I'd like to thank my little Microsoft Word buddy Links ;D**

**(Who's your Microsoft Word buddy? I also love the wizard… what's his name again? Ah, yes, Merlin! … What else?)**

**If you have absolutely no idea what I'm on about, it's the cute little helpers/assistants you can pick on MW instead of having boxes pop up, your assistant has a speech bubble **

**Very cute… **


	13. Break ins

**Okay, I'm getting annoyed with how long my A/Ns are (I've yet to check out yours, Miriam C. Garnet, but I will do so once I've finished this chapter!) so this one's short…**

**(Thankyou so much for your positive reviews **** oh, not to mention the random jokes!)**

**Enjoy Chapter 13! **

"Ouch! That was my foot!" hisses Macey, from somewhere off to my left.

The sun has all but completely disappeared now and so we thought it was best to proceed with plan break-into-Franko-Huttera's-house-and-search-for-the-disk when there was little to no light.

So here we are, scrambling through the dense shrubs which surround Franko's house.

I can't help but think of Liz, as we hack into his security system, and how she would have been able to do it in half the time we do. Zach loops the security film as I disable any trip-wires or lasers which will alert him or his guards to our presence.

Macey just stands off to the side, shivering and complaining about how black makes her hair colour look drab.

Rolling my eyes, I grab her arm and lead the way further into the shrubs, ignoring the branches scratching my face and body.

We find a weak spot in the walls around the yard and manage to break a hole in it, which we then climb through.

Macey takes the honour of knocking out three guards, but we all help to drag them somewhere less conspicuous. 

Dusting off my hands, I proceed to peer around corners of the building, making sure no one else sees us. Thankfully, the area is actually quite vacant, and so we have a pretty easy path up to the least-protected side of the house.

"Okay, are we clear?" I whisper to Macey, who nods.

I pry the window open as quietly as I can, and slide through.

Behind me I hear, "Stop looking at her arse, Zachary."

Choking back a smile, I land softly into the carpet floor and scan the room.

"This room's clear… come on through."

Zach pulls himself up and into the room in one swift motion, while Macey, not wanting to ruin her nails, takes a little more time than actually necessary.

But once we're all safely inside, I pull the window shut and cautiously walk across the room, avoiding any furniture or squeaky flooring underneath the carpet.

Peering around the door, there's not a soul in sight. The large room is filled with strange pieces of artwork. Paintings line the walls, while sculptures are scattered randomly across the floor, all depicting some sort of horrific scene.

I creep silently into the room and read one of the plaques, showing a man being strangled.

Mitchell Burnett

25 October – Strangled

(Caught stealing evidence)

And that's when I realise that it's portraying a _real _scene that happened to a _real _man on the 25 of October, and I start to feel sick.

"This man is disgusting! It's one thing to actually _kill _someone, but to then show their death in a sculpture?" Macey shudders.

I tear my eyes away from the sculpture and look briefly at the others; I know they were all victims of Franko's.

"Let's keep moving. And keep your eyes peeled for this Disk, or somewhere it might be hidden."

A careful, but hasty, search through the house – or the parts of it that aren't being heavily guarded – finds nothing. Although, we do hit that 'what-if-it's-here-but-we-didn't-see-it' thought again.

But after much discussion, we decide it'll be best if we start on the next name on the list.

Zach chooses number 6 – John Smith.

Driving back in the complete darkness with the engine gently lulling me into a hazy sleep, I rest my head tiredly against the window.

"We'll drive to Mr Smith's house tomorrow, seeing as we're all exhausted," says Zach, to my utter relief.

When Macey pulls back into the driveway, I'm half-asleep so I just stay slumped against the door, my eyelids drooping.

"Come on, Cam, let's go inside," says Macey, with a loud yawn.

I just mumble something about sleeping in the car, and shift in the seat so that I'm more comfortable. But then Zach opens the door and shakes my shoulder gently.

"Cammie, you only have to walk another twenty metres and you'll be inside!"

I shrug his hand off my shoulder and tell him to go away.

He sighs exasperatedly and undoes the seat-belt buckle. And pretty soon, I find myself being carried by him into the house.

"Oi, put me down!" I exclaim, sleepily. "I can walk, you know."

Zach laughs and sets me down, then I stagger into my room, collapse on the bed and fall asleep almost immediately, fully dressed.

Once again, I'm woken to the rather shrill voice of Macey. "Seriously Cameron, get your lazy backside out here, _now_, or I'll do it for you."

"Five more minutes!"

"No way!"

I completely ignore her and settle back down on the bed again, only to hear the sound of a razor starting.

That's when I notice Macey standing right beside my bed, holding the razor up threateningly.

"Do you _want _to keep your hair?"

"Oh, my god, Macey, of course I do!" I shriek, falling off the bed.

"Good, because I'm getting it lonely. Zach had to go into the CIA, since he does actually _work _there and can't continually miss days off."

Dragging myself upwards, I rub my eyes, and then head off towards the bathroom to freshen up.

I look at my reflection. And scream.

**Haha just a clue, this isn't really a cliffy – it might look like it, though…**

**Oh and sorry for not updating in so long! I've been really busy lately – though I know that's not really an excuse, so once again, sorry!**


	14. The Note

**Hope you're enjoying ;)**

_You better hurry up, Morgan._

_Time's running out._

_Only three more days 'til your precious _

_Rebecca dies…_

_And then we'll come for you._

Macey hears my scream, and comes running into the bathroom, a pen in her hand.

"What is it, Cam? Why did you yell?" she practically screams.

I swallow, and point to the note on the mirror.

"We have to find that Disk, and fast!"

Macey rips off the note and reads it, a disgusted look on her face.

"You have a shower, and I'll continue working on our next hit, okay?" she says, trying to keep calm.

After a long shower, I'm still freaking out about Bex.

Worried, I brush out my hair and join Macey in the kitchen.

She's not cooking today, just crunching on some cereal and pouring over a book titled '_Organised Search and Recovery of Items_'.

"Morning," I call to her.

She doesn't look up, only raises a hand in recognition of my words.

I'm still sick with worry, and I can't bear the thought of eating anything right now.

"What is that book going to help with, exactly?"

Macey shrugs and dog-ears the book, before placing it to one side.

"Can't help to read it, though?"

With nothing in the cupboards, Macey tells me she's going to the shops. She asks if I want to go with her, but I decline. I think it'll be better if I can start working on our break-in to John Smith's place; I need to do something to help Bex! She tries to change my mind, but I determinedly tell her I want to stay, and she eventually leaves, shaking her head.

Once I'm alone, I pull out a piece of paper and try to work out the best route into the building. After half and hour of unsuccessful attempts, I decide to leave it for later when Macey returns.

No doubt she'll be a long time at the shops, since she always manages to somehow see something in a window somewhere and want to try it on.

Usually something unbelievably costly.

So I'm a little surprised when the lock on the front door begins to turn.

"I thought you weren't going to be back for a long time, Mace!" I joke.

But it's not Macey.

It's a thin man and a bulky woman, both wearing expressions of determination.

Immediately, I jump to my feet and stand, read for any attack.

"Hello, Cameron, would you mind coming with us?" the man asks, in a scarily polite voice.

"Get out!"

The two snigger, and approach me, cautiously.

I wait for their attacks, but they don't come. So, we're left standing just feet away from each other. I wonder if they can feel the hate radiating from me…

Finally, the woman lunges towards me and lands a punch directly to my stomach, winding me. Then the man grabs me in a headlock, before I can do anything, and holds a rag over my mouth. I struggle and kick, a few times my foot connects with skin and I hear swearing.

The drugs are starting to take effect, and my vision blurs. I feel strangely lightheaded and limp – unable to control my body.

The two attackers take advantage of the drugs, and drag me outside to a large car with tinted-windows. They throw me in the back, where my eyelids droop and close; I fall asleep.

Upon waking up, I notice several things. The light in the room is poor – I must have been out for hours! The room is the same one the Circle threatened me in a few days prior, and that Bex is slumped against the wall, over in the corner.

"Bex…" I mumble, feeling groggy.

She doesn't raise her head, so I assume she's asleep, and I can't get any closer to her because one of my wrists is chained tightly to the wall.

But I move as close as to her as the thick chain allows, then there's only several feet between us.

"_Bex_." I try again.

She stirs gently, mumbling undistinguishable words under her breath.

But before I can say anything more, a man enters the room, smiling evilly.

"Ah, you're awake."

He takes three large strides over to me and grabs my shirt, dragging me off of the ground.

Shoving me ahead of him, we travel to a thick, wooden door and go through it. We emerge into a strangely cosy-looking room, and I see the woman who threatened me just days earlier sitting on one of the plush, squashy armchairs.

"Sit," she commands, not even casting a look our way.

The man forces me into the seat next to the woman's, and then leaves the room.

She finally turns her head to face me, looking almost _nice…_

"Dear, Cameron, you see, we just wanted to check if you have decided to give us the Disk yet? It really is important to us." She speaks to me like I'm a five-year old, talking slowly and precisely, enunciating clearly.

"Look, I've already told you I don't have it! If I did, I would give it to you! My friend's life isn't worth your stupid Disk!" I practically yell in her face.

She just continues smiling eerily. "Oh, but we knew you would say that. After all, you'd do anything for your precious little _friends._"

As she sneers the last part, a wave of anger rushes over me.

"At least I have something to live for!" I snarl back at her. "Whereas you, you have _no one. _Your lives are full of hate and revenge and… and… _murder_! But I have love, I have happiness, I have _friends_!"

Her forced smile slips off her face, and is replaced with a look of sheer anger. Her fists ball up, tightly. She's literally seething.

"Don't speak to me like that!" she screams. "You are _worthless_! Your friends wouldn't give a damn if you died right here, right now. Your dear, stupid _boyfriend _could find someone twice as good as you, twice as pretty, within an instant. Your rich snob of a friend could simply replace you with someone with _way _more importance than you. You are worth absolutely _nothing _to them. You, my _darling_ Cameron, are disposable."

Her words pierce through me like shards of glass, and I flinch, but pull my blank, indifferent expression back on.

"Yeah, right! Let's hear them say that."

She just jumps to her feet, as do I, and laughs. "Well, if they cared so much, why aren't they here, trying to save you? Why didn't they try harder before, when they suspected you of actually being one of us? Why isn't your precious father here?"

I don't actually know which father (or step-father) she's talking about, but I don't ask because I don't want to know.

For a moment, I struggle with words, but nothing comes to me, so I shove her backwards.

She lets out a cry of outrage and punches me, hard. I kick her shin in retaliation.

"You _bitch_!" she shrieks, losing control.

Lunging towards me, she pushes me backwards into the glass cabinet, which cracks against my back and I feel actual bit of glass pierce me this time.

Lashing out with one hand, she catches the side of my face, leaving what I'm sure will be a bruise later.

Obviously hearing the commotion, other people come bursting into the room.

"What is going on, Gina?" asks a bulky man, in amazement.

"Our pathetic prisoner, here, is getting what she deserves," is all she replies, as she grabs my hair and drags me to the floor.

I try to kick her, but she dodges out of my way. I struggle, but her grip is far too tight to escape from.

She kicks me in the stomach, causing me to cry out in pain.

None of the people who have entered the room try and pull us apart, I assume it's because they're afraid of _Gina_.

Gina drags me off the floor by my hair and, with one final, extra hard, punch, she releases me. I collapse, in immense pain, back to the floor, as she and her cronies leave the room, chattering quietly.

Tears roll down my bruised, sore face and onto to rough carpet, and I wonder what the point in everything is.

Too sore to stand up, I stay on the floor, wishing my life could reverse a few years so I can do them over.


	15. Familiar faces, and a stepfather?

Groaning, I roll over and realise I'm no longer on the floor, and that there's someone sitting beside my bed, in this unfamiliar room.

I suddenly tense up, expecting Gina again. But, to my immediate surprise, it's not any of the Circle members, it's Zach.

"Hey…" he says, soothingly.

I try a weak smile, but my cheek still hurts too much.

So, instead, I settle for, "Hi…"

He reaches out a hand and caresses my face, gently, worry evident in his eyes.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like crap."

"That's helpful."

"Fine. Like someone hit me with a bus."

Zach removes his hand from my face and sits back a bit.

"Macey's gone to get some medical supplies. We had to move houses seeing as they found us at the other one. It wouldn't've been safe to stay there."

I nod slowly, but stop because my head starts pounding.

"What happened?" I croak.

Zach looks angry; angrier than I've ever seen him. "They captured you. And then, by the looks of it, hurt you. We were trying to trace you, but those guys are good. They covered all their tracks – Macey was freaking out on me, she says it was all her fault-"

"But it wasn't!" I interject, desperately, trying to sit up.

"I know, but she seems to think it is. Anyway, they kidnapped you, but clearly they thought they'd gotten their message across – or whatever they said to you – so they just… they just _left _you! And right outside Macey's house, too!"

I reach out a hand and rest it, reassuringly, on his arm.

"It's okay. I'm back now." This time, I manage a soft smile before giving up my struggles and laying back into the pillow.

"We've _got _to find that stupid Disk!" I exclaim, as loudly as I can.

Zach looks doubtful. "We won't find it in time."

"Well aren't you Mr Optimistic. I'm _not _letting Bex die just because we were too lazy to bother finding something that's right under our noses!" 

He sighs, and then stands up. Walking to the window, he places his hands on his head and looks out the window at the vast countryside.

"Okay then, we'll keep looking. But there's no way you are going to help. There's barely an inch of you that's not bruised!"

"How do you know?" I try to joke.

Zach turns back to look at me, his expression extremely serious. "We'll get help. We'll find people who can help us."

"No! You can't trust anyone at the CIA!" I tell him.

"Who said anything about the CIA?"

I fall asleep in immense pain, but am woken only – what feels like – minutes later by someone I haven't seen in years.

My mother.

"Mom…?" I ask, dazed with sleep and soreness.

She takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, her eyes filled with tears.

"_Where have you been? I thought I'd never see you again!_" she cries.

There's a guilty feeling settled in my stomach. "I'm sorry, Mom, I should have told you."

She smiles sadly, and strokes my forehead tenderly. "I've missed you, sweetie…"

"If I could have done it another way, I would have," I tell her, quietly.

I cough and she immediately stands up. "I'll get you a drink," she says, before walking out the door, leaving me with a person I only just noticed.

"Hey Mr Solomon."

"Ms Morgan, you do realise your mother and I are married now?" he says, a little amused.

"I do, but saying 'Hey, step-dad!' sounds _way _too weird," I reply, smiling.

He shrugs and sinks into a chair by the window. "So,' he says. "I hear you joined the Circle."

I cringe. "Not exactly my choice."

"There's always a choice."

"Yes, but _my _choice included my family and friends being hurt, so I chose the second option," I answer.

Mr Solomon just gives me an unreadable look, before glancing away as my mother enters the room again.

"Macey just got back. She says you're allowed out of bed, but if you wince once, she'll force you back in." I laugh at my friend's… uh… kindness?

"She's a good friend."

"I know."

"You need good friends in this world."

"I know."

"I know you know."

"And I know you know I know."

"Guys!" exclaims Macey, as she, too, enters my room. "You're making my head hurt."

"Sorry," reply Mr Solomon and I simultaneously.

She looks amused, but doesn't say anything as she walks over to me and hands me a bunch of tablets. "Six each day. No more, no less, okay? And, yes, I will force feed you them if you don't do it on your own accord."

Sighing, I prop myself up on my elbows. "So can we get back to helping Bex?"

"Whatever you say, ma'am." Macey salutes, so I throw a pillow at her.

With much help – which is completely unnecessary, though kind – from Zach, I'm sitting around the table with my friends and family sitting near me.

Mom and Mr Solomon are discussing something in low voices, as Macey and Zach argue – yet again – over some technique of entry.

I just sit, revelling in the fact that our 'little group' from Gallagher is almost complete; excluding Bex and … Liz. Not to mention Grant and Jonas.

Smiling at all our old memories, I realise I haven't looked over the top floor security of John Smith's tiny townhouse.

"Surely this 'hit' should be easy? I mean, come on, look at the size of his house! It's _tiny_!" Macey had said earlier.

But Mr Solomon had given her a warning glare. "Tiny doesn't mean easy, Ms McHenry."

Macey simply shrugged and went back to her analysis of the blueprints.

I keep pushing away the doubt that we'll never find the Disk. I mean, we've only searched two of the six possible names. Even then, we don't know if _any _one of the six names actually _has _the Disk. It worries me beyond belief.

I suddenly feel a warm hand on my shoulder, and look up to see Zach giving me a small smile. I attempt to give him one back, but it only comes out as more of a grimace.

Once dinner comes around, I don't feel hungry at all, despite the fact I haven't eaten all day, so I excuse myself back to my bed to try and get some sleep – ha, yeah right. My best friend is being held hostage by a major enemy of mine who want me to give back some Disk I've never seen – or heard of – before in my life. I'm pretty sure sleep's low down on my list of priorities right now.

I toss and turn for a long time, and just as I give up all hope of at least getting a bit of a rest, I hear the door creak. Too tired to see who it is, I simply continue staring at the wall. But then I feel the bed shift beside me, and comforting hands snake around my waist.

"Hey, Gallagher Girl," a voice whispers in my ear.

I smile. "Hey…"

"Can't sleep, again?"

"How did you know?" 

"Spy." Of course he is.

I _tut _and give him a playful push.

"You know, you could be nicer. I am protecting you from the nightmares, here. You could be a _little _nicer…" Zach jokes.

I flip over to my other side so that I'm facing him. "I don't _need _protecting," I tell him, a little indignantly.

"Maybe I want to," he replies, softly.

My breath catches for a moment. And then he leans in and captures my lips with his own.

After a few moments, I pull away. "You can't just claim I'm too weak to protect me and get out of it that easily."

He laughs and pulls me closer again. "Are you sure?"

We kiss again. "No…" I whisper back, almost wishing morning would never come.

**Hey, really, really, really sorry it's been such a long time (well, three days or so) since my last update **

**Just wanna say once again – you guys are awesome! I love reviews (hint hint), especially positive ones! And… yeah… thanks for reading! – I might even update twice since I've been slack lately…**

**18 days to Christmas! {{Not that I'm counting or anything… - actually, someone in my class has been counting down since about 115 days…}}**


	16. Where is it!

**Yay, another chapter…**

**(And just to let you know, I'm writing 'mom' instead of 'mum' because Cam's American and I think it wouldn't suit her to say 'mum'…)**

**I'd really, really, really, really, really (I think you get the point) appreciate you taking out like two minutes of your time to tell me what you think of my story so far **

_**~Brrr, it's cold in here… there must be some clovers in the atmosphere…~**_

"And… _drop_!" calls Macey, as yet another camera sweeps above our heads, scanning the grounds.

"For a little place, it sure has a hell of a lot of security!" I remark.

Mr Solomon doesn't say anything, he just give us a _what-did-I-tell-you _look, while crouching in a shadowy ditch.

"Okay, Mrs… err… _Solomon_? You and Cam can check the top floor. Zach and Mr S can take the middle and I'll check the bottom," Macey instructs. "If you have any trouble, call for backup on comms, okay?"

We all nod to show we've heard, and then split up.

I follow my mom through the thick hedge, and to the side of the building, where we stand flat against the wall, listening for any sound of danger. Once we're all clear, we rappel up to the highest window, where we use Liz's latest window glass contraption (borrowed by Macey, of course) to soundlessly – and so no alarms go off – get inside.

Once we're actually _inside_, we get to work quickly. Mr Solomon had sounded pretty sure when he said 'John Smith' – I still can't believe how obvious that name is! – wouldn't interrupt our searches, and I'm not entirely sure I _want_ to know how _he_ knows.

I search through desks, drawers and even wallet and bags, but to no avail. If he does, in fact, have the Disk, he's either guarding it safely, or it's on another floor.

"Lady," I hiss at my mom, who turns around quickly. "Any clues?" To my disappointment, she shakes her head.

"Wise Guy? Peacock? Found anything?" I whisper through comms, but am only to be further disappointed further by their replies.

"Not yet."

"Nope."

I clench my fists in impatience. _It's got to be _somewhere!

After fifteen minutes, Macey asks if she can get some help down on her level, so I tell my mom to go while I keep looking.

Searching through the last cupboard, I hear the door creak quietly. I whip around quickly, but not quite quick enough. The 'intruder' lands a punch right to my nose, but I get my revenge by tripping them up. Based on the sound they make when they hit the floor, I think it's a male. Although, how he got up two floors without being seen by four other people, I don't know.

I land a perfect blow to the throat and he collapses at my feet, unconscious.

Clearly, Zach and the others have heard the scuffle and come bursting into the room.

"Nice work, Cam," my mother says, sounding impressed.

But Mr Solomon is far more cautious. "Who is he?"

I shrug, and we get a better look at him as Macey turns on the light.

"I assume that's John Smith?" I ask Zach, who nods and pulls rope out of his pocket.

"Maybe we should ask him whether he has the Disk?" he suggests.

It sounds like a plan, and the others think so too, so once he's tied up, Macey slaps him awake.

"Let go of me," he growls.

I scoff. "Yeah, because we're going to do _exactly _as you say."

He frowns and struggles against his bonds. "I'm serious, you stupid kids. Let. Me. Go. You won't get out of here alive."

"We'll take our chances," replies Mr Solomon.

His frown deepens.

"Where is the Disk?" asks my mom firmly.

Barely containing his recognition of the Disk, he shrugs and says, "_What_ Disk?"

And that small flinch is enough to alert me that he knows where it is. So, though I'm not proud of it, I lose my temper and storm up to him.

"Where is the Amber Disk you stole from the Circle of Cavan?" I scream, right in his face.

He barely bats an eyelid. "I have absolutely no idea what you are on about." 

Frustrated, I seize his arm in a vice-like grip. "Tell me where it is _now_ or you will wish you had never been born," I growl at him. "I'm not joking around here _John Smith – _if that even is your real name! – If you don't tell me in ten seconds, I will personally rip your eyeballs out and send them to your family. Because, you see, my friend – my _best _friend – is in danger from those crazy lunatics who call themselves the Circle of Cavan for something _she, _nor I, did! And if there's something I really detest in this world, it's people messing with my friends!"

I step back, breathing heavily.

"One!"

But he just exclaims, "What are you crazy people on about?"

"Two!"

"You're psycho!"

"I might be psycho, but at least I won't be _dead_! Three!"

He falls silent.

"I'm serious! Four!"

Still nothing.

"Five! Six!"

Smith shifts uncomfortably, still struggling against the ropes.

"Seven! Tell me!"

He seems to be cracking.

"Eight!"

We're almost nose-to-nose as I say, "Nine."

"T-"

"Okay, okay! I was _planning _to steal it, alright! But 'planning' is the key word here. I never got as far as _actually _taking it! Someone else bet me to it," he spurts out, sweat appearing on his forehead. "Although, I have some very reliable sources who tell me that the whole thing was just a set up, so they could keep the Circle off the CIA's tracks."

"So who has it now?"

"I just told you. The CIA has the Amber Disk."


	17. Peacock and Chameleon

**Velcome, my little nincompoops, to Chapter… seventeen *cue the scary music and lightning, oh and let's not forget the scary, villainous laugh***

**I am velly, velly pleased so far. **** Except for the reviews D:**

**Not-a so-a many-a anymore-a, it is-a sad-a! (Can we get to 100? – I'll make a shout out ~and perhaps a story recommendation of theirs – for number 100 :D)**

**So please! I beg of you, have it in your kind, kind hearts to take two (or more) minutes of your time to click that teensy link and review! Tell me the Good(e), the Bad, and the Downright Ugly!**

**Tell me how hideous-looking I am, for all I care! Just somebody review, otherwise I might look a leetle crazy talking to myself ^^**

**Please! For the safety and humanity of human kind!**

**Or, well, my sanity.**

"_I can't believe they've had it this whole time_!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up and resting them on my head.

Zach just runs a hand through his hair and says, "Cam, calm down!"

I whirl on him. "No! Those idiots from the CIA are going to get my best friend killed!"

He backs away a bit from my accusing finger, which is directed at his chest.

"Did – or _do _– _you _have anything to do with this!" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

A look of shock crosses his face, but then, just as quickly as it appears, it goes away. "How can you even ask that?"

"Well, you've always been a mystery, and I had to check. But if I find out that you've been lying, I will personally kill you. Twice."

"Come on, Gallagher Girl, you know that's not possible." 

"Don't tell me what's possible and what's not."

Thankfully, before we can say anything more we'll regret, Macey walks through the door, carrying three cups.

"I'm surprised at how pathetically stocked this guy is. He barely had coffee in his cupboards!" she says, setting two of the three glasses onto a nearby stool.

And then she realises the tension in the air.

"Uh… you lovebirds aren't _fighting, _are you?" Macey asks, a small smirk appearing on her heavily-glossed lips.

'No…" I mutter, crossing my arms.

"Right…" Macey laughs.

I sip at the drink she's just given us, but immediately spit it out. "Yuck! What _is _that?"

Zach grimaces as, he, too, tries the tea.

Macey brushes her amazingly neat hair off her neck. "I told you he's badly stocked. It's ginger-peppermint-cinnamon, or something weird like that."

Making a face, I tip the disgusting beverage into a dying pot plant before turning to the others and asking, "So how, exactly, are we going to break into the CIA?"

As night falls, a strange feeling of desperation overcomes me. We have one day left.

One day to save Bex.

One day. 24 hours. 1440 minutes.

Hardly any time at all.

And then the tears begin to fall. Pretty soon, distressed sobs escape from my mouth.

I can't stay sitting in the musty house, so I stand up and head quietly out the back door and into the wild countryside.

It's a full moon tonight; everything is tinged with a silvery, magical glow. Anything is possible as I stand, gazing up at the stars, trying to ignore the cold that bites at my bare arms and legs. Perhaps because anything seems possible, my tears cease.

Taking a deep breath, I try to control the overwhelming feeling of being useless.

Bex needs me, and a Gallagher Girl _never _deserts her sister.

As silently as I can, I make my way back into my room and change, slowly – my bruises and injuries still hurt lots – into the darkest clothes I own.

Without waking anyone else, I… uh… _borrow_ Mr Solomon's keys.

His car, thankfully, is a virtually silent vehicle. Even the doors hardly make a noise as I slide into them.

With no plan, no backup, no escape route, I turn the ignition and start off the long, gravel driveway.

As the house disappears behind a hill, I bite my lip, wondering if I'm doing the right thing.

"So, Cam, you didn't actually think you'd get away from me, did you?"

And, spy training or not, I jump, and the car swerves dangerously.

"_MACEY_!" I exclaim, my heart pounding, turning to face my friend, who's grinning in the backseat. "How the _hell _did you get there?"

She just smiles triumphantly. "I slept in here. I had a feeling you'd try something."

I sigh, exasperated, and press down on the accelerator once again. "Don't even think about trying to stop me, Macey."

Macey doesn't reply immediately. Instead, she climbs past me and into shotgun, and then says, "No way! I love Bex just as much as you do, Cammie. We've got to save our sister."

Giving her an appreciative smile, I turn my attention back to the road.

After ten minutes, Macey screams, "Stop, already!"

I press down on the brake, causing us to flip forward into our seatbelts. "_What_? Can you not do that _while I'm driving_?"

She just gives me an annoyed look and replies, "Get out, I'm driving. You're way too slow!"

Frowning, I switch seats with her. Once we're both buckled in, she drives off at a _really _fast speed.

And, thus, we reach Langley incredibly soon.

Macey parks the car in a semi-full parking lot, before we sneak off on foot, blending into the night with our dark clothes.

"So, we don't have a plan?" she whispers as we sneak through the shadows, trying not to be seen by anyone.

"Not exactly."

"And we don't have a clue where the Disk is being held?"

"Uh… no… not really—"

"Yet we're still going in, without backup and without any means of breaking in."

"Well, when you put it that way-"

But Macey smiles, and interrupts me, "Sounds like fun."

Fun? _Fun_? Is she _kidding_? Pretty much all the odds are against us. If we're caught, I'll be locked up again – and most likely interrogated – and Macey will be arrested, too. You can add breaking and entering into a top-security facility to my growing list of felonies.

"Okay, Macey, I figured, since we're bound to get caught sometime, that you go in and get the codes for wherever the hell they keep this Disk. Then, once you've got them – they should be somewhere on the CIA database, so you'll have to do some hacking – go up to the roof. I'll meet you there," I tell her, pulling out my gun and rappelling cords.

She smiles, before nodding. "I'm ready."

"Okay, contact me on comms once you're ready."

And then she walks away, leaving me flattened against a wall.

Once she's out of sight, I creep around the perimeter of the huge building, searching for weaknesses and so on.

Finding none, I feel frustrated, but pleased at the same time.

Frustrated because, well, I can't find a way in, and pleased because it's good to know my friends are with an agency with such good security.

Eventually, I realise there's no way to break past the fence (what, with the pressure points, security footage, lasers and intruder sensors), so I decide to contact Macey.

"Pssst! _Peacock_!"

"You know how much I hate that codename?" is all she replies.

I crouch behind some large bushes, so that I won't be seen, but I can see anyone coming.

"You got anything, yet?" I ask.

"Give me a second, Chameleon! I only just got in the building."

"Sorry. I can't make it to the window! There's far too much security,' I explain to her.

Macey doesn't respond right away, but I can almost hear her brain whirring as she thinks.

"Hold on, can you get back to the boundaries?" Macey finally asks.

Glancing past the leaves, I don't see any guards, but I have no doubt that there are plenty of security cameras.

"Sure… what have you got planned?" 

"Just trust me, Chameleon."

I sneak back out of the garden and to a shadowy spot along the perimeter. "Okay, I'm here, now what?" 

"Hold on." I hear her tapping away at the keyboard, and muttering indistinguishable words to herself. "I'm hacking into security. You'll have fifty-four seconds to get in, can you do it?"

"Do you own a Gucci handbag?" I question, feeling a little indignant.

"Of course!"

"That was rhetorical."

Then, suddenly, lights flash red and an alarm sounds, alerting security to the computer breach. I quickly cut through the metal with a modified pair of nail scissors, just as a guard walks into sight.

Having the worst luck, he sees me and yells, "Stop! Security! Stay there!"

Ignoring him, I slip through the hole in the fence and run as fast as I can. Footsteps sound behind me, but I don't look back. I'm sure plenty of other guards are alerted, and on the lookout, but at the moment, I am trying to escape that one behind me.

Deciding it'll be best if I knock him out; I slip past a building corner and wait for him. As he runs past, I stick out my leg and trip him. Once he's on the ground, I punch him out cold, before running soundlessly away.

I make it to underneath the window I told Macey I would meet her at.

Seeing a shadowy figure cross it, and whisper in my comms, "Macey, are you at the room, yet?"

She tells me she is, and asks if I'm ready.

"Yeah, just let me rappel up. You can open the window, now."

I shoot the cord up and it latches on the windowsill. Tugging it to make sure it's stable, I wrap it around my waist and begin my ascent.

**Ughhh, I hate this chapter… definintely **_**not **_**my best writing…**

**Ehh… I'll try better next time **

**So, I'm getting the feeling this story will finish soon and I couldn't have a clue what to write next. So that's why you guys are going to set me a challenge **

**Challenge me to write something – like give me a topic or idea or challenge…**

**I'm planning some non-canon couple one-shots, so watch out for them! But I'd really like to write something a little longer. Maybe five or six chapters.**

**But you set that for me **

**But please, please, **_**please **_**don't make it too clichéd **** Thankss!**

**-Miss Charz**


	18. Chapter 18

**Ahhh, chapter eighteen! I'm not sure how many more chapters there are gonna be, but I don't want this story to drag out or anything!**

**(Keep telling me what you like and/or don't like!)**

**(By the way, my challenge for you to challenge me (lol) is still going! – I'm going to pick the one I like the most on the final chapter!)**

**So, enjoy my little muchikens…**

Once I'm safely in the room, Macey shuts the window and grabs my hand.

The room is quite bare; only a couple of empty shelves line the walls.

But I barely have time to register it all, before Macey pulls me out into the corridor, and then the lift. She presses the button labelled 'D3'

"Where are we going?" I whisper, once the elevator begins to move.

Macey turns to face me. "My department," she replies, simply.

When the elevator comes to a halt, I step out into the sleek hall and notice a sign above our heads, clearly stating we're on the 'Concealment & Disguise' department floor.

Macey then drags me down the hall, past office doors and dull paintings on the walls. We stop at office 215 and enter it using Macey's key card.

"Wait here," she orders, pushing me into a chair and walking through tot an adjoining room.

She reappears three and a half minutes later, a shiny, silver box in her hands.

Macey sets the box down on her desk and clicks the locks on it, before lifting the lid off.

"Time for a makeover, Cam."

Oh, dear.

Half an hour of Macey poking, prodding, readjusting and adding, I look absolutely nothing like Cameron Ann Morgan. When I point this out to Macey, she smiles and holds up an ID card.

"Because you're not!" she exclaims. "You're Hillary Greenwood, CIA, assistant to Ms Macey McHenry."

I give a small, half-laugh, as Macey returns all her 'tools' to the box and stores them away.

"Now, we get down to business!"

Walking through the CIA corridors like we fit in; like we're part of them, I notice, to my relief, that no one gives us a second glance. We're not stopped by any sort of security and asked to indentify ourselves; we're not even talked to apart from the occasional "Hey" from Macey to others she knows.

As we walk, I mutter to her quietly, glancing at the ID.

"You swiped this off of your assistant?"

Macey gives a smirk, and replies, "She won't be missing it anytime soon. She's on her honeymoon with some guy I set her up with a few weeks back. She left it in the office one day, so I figured I'd take care of it for her."

I shake my head and grin a little while I attach the ID to my crisp, white blouse. I raise a hand to the brown wig that now covers my own dirty blonde hair, and smooth it out. My entire disguise looks amazingly natural.

"You, Macey McHenry, are a genius," I tell her, as we pass through the Technological Defects Department.

"So I've been told," she whispers back, with a small smile.

Seeing a pair of thin men, both wearing glasses, wave at Macey, I ask, "So did you get the codes?"

Macey bites her lip. "No, actually, I didn't"

I can't help but feel a bit disappointed. Great, more work.

"Because someone else did."

Frowning, I don't realise where we are. And that I've been in that very room before. A door to our right opens and a thin, tiny blonde weaves through the maze of desks to wrap her strong arms around me and pull me into a crushing hug.

Gasping for breath, there's a blonde bob of hair clouding my vision.

"_Liz?_"

She pulls back, tears flooding her eyes.

"Oh, Cammie, I'm so, so sorry, I should have believed you! _Please forgive me._"

"Liz! Liz!" I exclaim, astonished. "I'll forgive you if _you _forgive me!"

She gives me a watery smile, and I wrap my arms around her and return the hug.

"Honestly, Cammie, I thought you'd deserted us!" Liz practically sobs into my shoulder. "It was hard to believe, but they made it so convincing."

"Wait? _Who _made it convincing?"

Liz pulls back and blinks. "The Director."

**Ah, it's short I know, but hopefully next chap will be longer and better!**

**Keep on reviewing! I love to hear your opinions. Please tell me what you like and don't like or any ideas about what might happen! :D And remember, the challenge is still going!**


	19. The Vault

**Hey, I'd just like to thank ****itzjess236 ****for her helpful review **** I really appreciate your honesty, as it helps me to become a better writer – and to know what my readers like in a story! As to your comment that everyone is forgiving her way too quickly, yes I feel that way too! You are completely right, it's just that the story would be a bit boring if it were just her and her alone.**

**Also, to my 100****th**** reviewer, ****cookie-pocky-strawberry-love****! She's reviewed on heaps of my chapters **** and a big hello to the town of Rio Piedra, in Puerto Rico! Muchas grasias (please excuse my bad Spanish, me not being Spanish and all!)**

**And, finally to my awesome reviewers, without whom I would not have continued to story! (I'm trying to read stories written by my reviewers, and can I say the ones that I have read so far have been **_**amazing**_**!) **

**Here's chapter nineteen!**

"So _he _was the one spreading the bad stuff about me?" I ask, indignant.

"Well, to be fair, you did that yourself, Cam," counters Macey. "You were the one who joined the Circle in the first place."

I frown at her. "Well, he didn't need to turn my friends against me even _more_!"

"We did hate you," admits Liz. "A lot."

Macey nods her agreement, picking at her nails.

"So, are we going to do this? Find the Disk, or not?" I ask, bringing us all back to the pressing matter at hand.

Liz straightens up and looks at Macey, who shrugs and leads us out the door, saying over her shoulder, "Liz, did you find the location?"

Liz fumbles with the file she's holding, which is stacked with papers. Somehow, she manages to draw one out and read it. And then her shoulders droop; she becomes visibly disheartened. "It's in the vault behind that painting of the goddesses' supper in the Director's office."

And Macey groans. "Is someone _purposely _trying to make this hard?" she asks in disbelief.

I just shrug and say, "Macey, we don't even know if he's here tonight."

Liz raises her eyebrows and looks at Macey. "It's true. He's rarely here these days, who knows where he's been. Perhaps it's some sort of mission?"

Macey bites her lip, Liz looks nervous and disappointed, but I perk up and announce, "I have a plan."

A few minutes later, Macey and I walk towards the Director's office door, fully aware it's rigged with powerful explosives that will go off if the wrong person enters, not to mention hundreds of other security measures, and we can't help but notice how innocent-looking it is.

"So Liz has everything set?" I murmur out the corner of my mouth.

All Macey replies with is, "Of course she is, and you know that perfectly well, Chameleon."

I've been on plenty of missions before, to know enough about how to calm myself down when I'm nervous. Deep breaths. Thinking of something else. Counting things.

So, my face remains expressionless as Macey knocks on the door, and then looks surprised when a low, "Come in" sounds from within the room.

She presses her thumb print into the scanner by the door and it opens automatically, presenting a wooden, sophisticated room, completely bare of any sort of personality.

A broad, balding man sits in a plush, black chair, reading something which is no doubt top-secret. As we enter the room, he looks up and takes off his brown glasses.

"Ah, Ms McHenry, Ms Greenwood, what can I do for you?"

And Macey takes the lead, just as we had discussed not minutes beforehand. "Actually, I'm here to discuss some important changes I think should take place down in my department."

She walks forward to his desk, but I stay behind, holding the door slightly ajar, so that, when the time comes, certain noises can be heard within the usually soundproof room.

"I have a few suggestions about staff replacements, facility upgrading and intern training. A lot of things are getting slack around our department, and, as you know…" Macey rambles on about anything that comes into her brilliant mind, while I zone out, waiting for the diversion.

And then it comes. A huge _bang_ echoes from down the hallway, and, out of the corner of my eye, I see the Director's head whip towards the direction of the door.

"What was that?" Macey fake exclaims.

The Director stands up, frowning, and moves around the desk.

"We should check what's going on, Marc," suggests Macey, and the Director nods slowly, following Macey out of the office.

As their footsteps die away, I brush my brown hair out of my eyes and get to work. I place a Delay-Lock (which basically delays the lock opening for about 21 seconds) on the door, and then move swiftly across to the painting of the three, stunning goddesses sharing a meal.

With four swift movements, I have the painting leaning against the wall, on the floor. Liz's jammer helps to block any alarms that might go off.

Although there's nothing behind the painting, I continue, undeterred. Ripping off the wallpaper, and then pulling aside a few wooden beams, I see the silver vault, which contains the thing that will save my best friend. The vault isn't very big; it's barely one metre by one metre. The stereotypical silver lustre almost makes me roll my eyes.

There's a finger-print-reading machine which will allow me to get to the next step in the vault's security, the only thing is that it needs the Director's fingerprint to open. Thankfully, I'm in _his office, _where he's bound to have left fingerprints _somewhere_.

Seeing a coffee mug placed on his desk, I hurry over to it and pull out the handy little kit that Bex, Liz and I designed to steal fingerprints back in junior grade. I press the bit of clear plastic onto a finger-mark and leave it for two seconds, before pulling it back off. I use the perfect replica of the Director's fingerprint to gain access further into the vault.

The next level is a code, but it's almost too easy to guess (after two tries) the correct digits. 1 – 6 – 8 – 9 – 7 (his daughter's birthday; 16 – 8 – 97). Way too easy.

The third, and final, level of security is a riddle.

The words flash up on a little screen:

_I remain dark when all else is light,_

_I cannot be seen in the dark of night_

_I follow you around, of me you cannot be rid_

_And when the day shadows, I appear to have hid_

_What am I?_

I think for a moment, biting my lip. _I remain dark when all else is light_? Could that be some sort of traitor…? Or double-agent…?

_I cannot be seen in the dark of night… _that has to mean something dark, something that blends in or disguises itself…

_I follow you around, of me you cannot be rid… _well that sounds like a tail or something… but you can lose a tail.

I frown gently, fully aware that the Director could return at any moment. But then it comes to me.

A _shadow_!

Quickly, I type my answer into the small keyboard at the base of the screen. I hold my breath for a moment, but let out a deep sigh of relief when the screen turns green and says _'CORRECT'._

As fast as I can, I wrench open the vault door and snatch the small, wrapped package that sits innocently inside it.

I return the whole scene to exactly how it was when Macey and I entered the room, and get outside just in time. Macey and the Director come striding down the hall, him looking furious.

"Your friend Lily or whatever—" he begins, angrily.

"Liz, her name is Liz," corrects Macey, giving me a small smile as she sees me leaning casually against the wall.

"Anyway, your little friend back there had better start being more careful! That's the _third _'accident' in a month!"

Fuming, the Director grasps the doorhandle, gets his fingerprint scanned, and then slams the door behind himself, leaving Macey and I in the corridor.

I nod, discretely, to Macey, to tell her I got the Disk. And we're just about to walk nonchalantly out of the building, when all hell breaks loose.

**Buenos Noches!**

**Ah, dear. My reviews are sliding **

**Is it honestly that hard to review just a simple 'Well done' or "I hate your story, go die in a hole"? I would love longer, more descriptive reviews, but I'll settle for a bare minimum **

**Anyway, thanks to those who DO, in fact, review. You deserve bundles and bundles of err virtual coloured-popcorn…**

**And ice-cream sandwiches (My mum makes the **_**best **_**ones you'll ever taste!)**

**Thanks for reading! Toodles,**

**~Miss Charz (Gosh, I'm getting sick of my pen name… I really don't like it…)**


	20. It's gone

**Hello again I'm wrapping this story up soon, hopefully (or maybe not, depends if you people like it or not)**

**Can I just say that I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really want there to be more Zammie moments **

**But what can I say? My story writes itself. I have no control over it whatsoever.**

**Ah, I hear it calling now, so enjoy…**

**

* * *

**

Red lights flash and alarms sound.

Either they've already discovered the missing Disk, or someone has broken into the CIA for the second time that night.

Macey grabs my wrist and runs down the hall to where Liz is standing, looking terrified.

"Macey, Cam! What did you _do_?" she squeals, over the sound of the alarms.

I shake my head and drag her into an office, where I scurry over to the computer and begin to hack into the security camera footage.

Four images are quartered on the screen, each showing a different angle of the reception area of Langley. Blackened figures hurry across the screen, firing shots at anyone in their sights. I watch bodies drop to the floor, pools of blood appearing around them, but I'm so used to seeing death, it's not hard to mask the queasy feeling which is settling in my stomach.

Instead, I turn to my best friends and say, "I think the Circle of Cavan has found me."

Behind us, the door opens and three people, _furious_ people, enter the room.

The broad-shouldered, messy-haired one, with the dark eyes I adore so much, says, "Don't you _ever _run again."

I raise an eyebrow and look to my friends for help, but they just shrug.

So, feebly, I hold up the small package we retrieved earlier and tell the newcomers, "I got the Disk…"

Zach shakes his head, angrily, and strides forward, about to take the Disk from me. When I move it out of his reach, he looks annoyed and puzzled.

"_I_''m going to be the one to give them this. None of you are going to go anywhere near the Circle," I tell them all, firmly.

My mom looks incredibly angry. But it's Mr Solomon who speaks up, "We'll discuss this later, but, right now, we've got a little _situation _on our hands…"

"Well they're not just going to let us out, are—"

But a voice that sounds over the PA system interrupts Macey. "Hello, Cameron." A cold shiver runs down my spine as I remember what the person who owns that voice did to me back at the training camps of the Circle. "We know you are here. And we know your friends are here. We'd like to have a little _chat _with you about some personal items of ours that you have in your possession. So, come forward; come to us and we can forget that you ever deserted us. Come to us and we can start again. You were talented; you were what we needed. You have fifteen minutes."

I close my eyes and sink into a chair, rubbing my temples.

"I'm going," I mutter. "I'm going. I'm going."

"No, no _way_, Cam!" Macey exclaims.

But before she can get much further, the door bursts open for a second time and the black-clad, masked figures storm into the room, holding up guns.

"Wait!" I scream, jumping up. "Don't shoot! I have something that you're interested in!"

The figures hesitate, and glance at each other. All my friends are standing, tensed, ready for any sort of fighting to commence.

"Come with me," one of the figures growls, striding forward and grabbing my arm in an extremely tight grasp.

Behind me, everyone else is grabbed by a captor, too, but no one struggles because they know the consequences will be a bullet to the head.

"Could you loosen your grip, Hercules?" I ask the man who's dragging me, through gritted teeth.

He just leers at me and tightens his grip even more, forcing me to suppress another wince.

We're lead to an intimidating-looking door, and stop outside it.

The leering man says to his cronies, "Keep these ones out here. I think Gina would like a… _word_… with _her_." He indicates to me.

Cries of outrage and protest come from my friends and my mom, but the people holding them simply cover their mouths and tie their hands altogether.

My captor opens the door and shoves me inside, following me in and closing the door behind us.

I take in everything about the room; the dull, cream linoleum floor, the harsh, bare lighting, the fact that the room is about seven metres seven 7 metres. I take in all of it, and that's why I notice the subtle doorway that's hidden in the wall. There's only a table and two chairs decorating the horrible place, it reminds me too much of the day Bex interviewed me.

And then the 'secret' doorway opens and Gina enters the room, smiling evilly.

"Well, well, well, come to return something to us?" she asks, maliciously, walking forward and dragging the wig Macey placed on me off of my head, revealing my normal hair.

I frown at her. "Only if you release my friend."

"Oh, we have her here, don't you worry. You come with us and give us the Disk, and we'll let her go. Wasn't that our agreement?"

Nodding slowly, I wrench my arm out of the man's grasp and walk towards Gina. "So take me to her, or you get nothing."

Then she slaps me, and I cry out in pain. From the other side of the door, I heard scuffling, a few grunts, and then a distinct, "Let her go!"

But Gina simply keeps smiling eerily at me, before she turns back to the door, and beckons me to follow her.

Hesitantly, I take small steps towards her, but become increasingly confident. If they're taking me to Bex, it doesn't matter what they do to me.

"Is Bex okay?" I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

Gina just smirks a little and says, "Oh little _Rebecca_ is just _fine_."

Biting my lip, I follow her down flights of stairs, through secret passageways, and even through cob-web infested storage rooms. Even though we seem to have travelled far, I get the feeling we haven't actually gone very far. The oxygen supply is relatively normal, so we mustn't be underground anywhere, and I can hear quiet voices murmuring somewhere nearby.

Gina finally stops underneath a trapdoor, stands on an old crate and pushes it open, and light floods into the tiny room we're standing in.

"Get up there," Gina orders, and I climb slowly onto the crate and lift myself upwards, with no help from the horrible woman who's holding my friend somewhere.

The entrance to the CIA is packed with, who I presume to be, Circle members. They seem to have taken over the whole building, locking everyone important – and those who aren't dead yet – into an escape-proof room, guarded by five guards.

"Where's Bex?" is the first thing that comes out of my mouth when Gina pops up behind me.

"Well, where's our Disk?" Gina replies, coolly.

I check the back pocket of my jeans, where I shoved the Disk when I retrieved it from the Director's office.

But it's gone.

* * *

**Ohhh, short, I know (And cliffy, sorry!)**

**Thanks for all the reviews, though **

**I'd say there's about two or three more chapters, and they'll **_**probably **_**be long (not promising anything, though). So please continue telling me the pros and cons. **

**~~ Thanks! ~~**


	21. Hate

**Why, hello there **

**Would you like to hear a joke?**

**No? Alright, I'll tell you one **

**What's the last thing that goes through a bugs mind as it hits the windscreen?**

**It's bottom! :P**

**Ah, I'm sorry for wasting a precious few seconds of your life. **

**I'll get writing now, seeing as my uhhhh creative **_**juices **_**are flowing (I sound like an orange.)**

"I swear it was here!" I insist, as a few Circle members walk menacingly towards me.

Gina drags me closer to her by my hair, and I stifle a cry of pain. "Give it here, you _stupid little girl,_" she hisses in my ear, beyond furious.

"I had it before!" I cry out, but I can tell they don't believe me. _I _wouldn't believe me, if I were them.

"Bring Rebecca out," Gina orders, angrily, to one of her men.

He obeys, and comes back a few minutes later, dragging Bex by the hair.

Gina spits at me, "So, are you willing to be more cooperative _now_?" She points her gun directly on Bex's temple.

Tears form in my eyes, but I blink them away. "Let her go! Hurt me instead!"

But Gina just screams at me, "I've had enough of your chivalry! Give. Us. The. Damned. Disk!"

Inching towards Bex, I tell Gina, desperately, "I would, but _I don't have it anymore!_"

"I swear I'll shoot!" she threatens, in a deadly serious voice, raising the gun and pressing down lightly on the trigger

I hold back my tears; I _will not _show emotion to this crazy bitch.

"Just leave Bex alone! Your stupid Disk is somewhere in the building. Search me, for all I care, but you wont find it!" I say, trying to get even closer to Bex, who is looking at me with her gorgeous, caramel eyes, trying to say something through them. But I'm too absorbed in the dangerous situation to be able to translate them.

Gina gestures to one of her men in black, who strides over to me and searches me. He makes me strip down to my singlet and underwear before he's satisfied.

"See?" I tell Gina, getting even more desperate by the minute. "I don't have it!"

But she's not convinced. "Then one of your other _friends_ does."

Zach, Macey, Liz, Solomon and my mom are thrust into the room, and all given searches, too.

The bulky guy who checked them for the Disk turns to Gina, puzzled, and grunts, "They don't 'ave it."

She screams in frustration. "Where the hell did you hide it?" She shoves me to the floor and grabs my shoulders.

Kicking her in the face, I feel completely relieved she's let go of Bex. Gina pulls away, cursing at me. And then I realise the whole scene has turned into a fight.

Guns are pulled out, but everything's far too fast-paced to aim properly.

I crouch, and run for Bex. We reach each other and hold on tightly, weaving our way through the fighting to the door at the end of the entrance.

We duck through. "I've got to find the Disk!" I yell, urgently, gripping her forearms as she grips mine.

"Cam…" she croaks. "Cam… you c-can't." And then she collapses into a coughing fit.

Helping her over to a sink, I pour her some water. "Stay here," I say, firmly, pushing her into a chair. "I'll find the Disk and then I'll be back to help the others!"

She's too weak to fight, but as I run off, I can hear her feeble protests.

Somehow, I make my way back to the room where I watched the security footage, and begin tracing our steps. Maybe it fell out of my pocket at some point!

I search as quickly, and thoroughly, as I can, but my search proves useless. The Disk is nowhere in sight.

Running back to the entrance, I bump into a familiar figure.

I gasp as I realise who it is. Though close, the fight echoes distantly in my ears. It's the Director.

Without a word, he grabs my hand and leads me down the hallways and into his office.

He shuts the door and turns to me. "Do you need some clothes?" he asks, soothingly.

I nod, realising I'm only wearing my bra, singlet and underwear.

He opens a cupboard and throws me a shirt and then a pair of lady's pyjama shorts. Hastily, I pull them on, tucking the overlarge shirt into the shorts.

Smiling weakly at him, I suddenly remember what he had been spreading about me, and my smile slides off my face.

"Do you know where the Disk is?" I ask in a low voice.

The Director shakes his head and hands me a glass of water, which I drink, thirstily. "You know, Cameron, we could drop those charges against you…" he says, quietly, walking closer and closer to me. "On one condition, though…"

Swallowing nervously, I don't – and I mean _really _don't – like how close our proximity is. "Yeah? What's that?"

His hands come up to my face and rest on each side. "Be with me, Cameron."

And then, before I can stop him, he presses his lips against mine. And before I can push him away completely, the door opens and I see Bex's astonished, and angry, face appear.

She's speechless at the little 'scene' she sees before her. She lets the door fall closed.

"Wha-? Cam? What—_what is this_?" Bex splutters out, weakly.

I pull away from the Director, but he holds me tightly.

"L-" I try to say _'Let me go', _but somehow I _can't_. But not because I don't want to! For some reason, my body won't let me speak!

And I think back to the glass of water the Director gave me earlier. I'll bet anything he put some sort of speech-paralyser in it.

"Cam…?" Bex asks, seemingly hurt, but I can't for the life of me figure out _why_. "Cam, _he_'s not on our side! _He_'s part of the Circle! _He_ was one of the people who held me captive." Her voice breaks a little at the end of her sentence.

I try to speak again, but no words come out. I shove the Director away from me and try to walk towards Bex, but she steps back, looking disgusted and betrayed… again…

So the Director answers for me. "She knows all that, she knows who I am," he lies, smoothly. "And that's why she's here. We're going to bring down all of your people."

I shake my head franticly, trying to get Bex to understand that what he's saying isn't true. She presses a little button on the light-blue, plaited charm-bracelet on her wrist, a look of pure hatred covering her face.

"I though you'd changed sides!" she hisses at me. "I thought you were here to help me. To save all of us! Obviously not."

I can't bear the accusing tone and tears well up in my eyes

"B-" I try, and fail, to say her name.

The door opens for a second time and in storm the five people I care most about in the world, all of them out of breath.

Macey looks relieved and says, "Oh, thank God, Cam! We only just got away from those people. They're bound to get here soon, but I think we shook them off pretty well."

And it only takes seven words from Bex for all of their expressions to change. "She's with _him_. And he's with _them_."

Liz looks puzzled, and so does Macey, but, eventually, understanding dawns on them, and their expressions turn to hurt, and then to one similar to Macey's.

I see the Director smirking again, and I feel the powerful urge to hit him. Hard.

So I storm up to him, ready to slap him, but I don't expect him to pull me into another kiss. I, again, push him away and hit him with all my might, then kick him in the shin.

I turn to see Zach looking extremely hurt. He looks really, really mad, but hurt and pain fill his eyes.

"Wha—" He doesn't even know what to say, so instead of talking to me, he turns and leaves the room, slamming the door loudly.

Macey looks at me in disgust; Liz narrows her eyes, and Bex is the one to say, "If I had a gun right now, you'd be dead on the floor."

I close my eyes, trying to block the horrible moment out, but I can't ignore it when Macey says, "I hate you Cameron Morgan. I hate you _so_ much and I _never _want to see your face again."

My mom can hardly look at me, and Solomon is frowning deeply.

"You are no daughter of mine." My mom's voice is harsh, and I flinch as she says them, and then drags Solomon out of the room.

Macey and Liz are at a complete and utter loss for what to say. The two are angry and hurt beyond words, and the worst thing is that I can't reply to them. I walk towards them, but they all back away, and Macey follows Zach, my mom and Mr Solomon out the door. Liz soon follows suit, and I hear her little sob as the door shuts, yet again.

Bex and I just stand there, staring at each other. I can practically feel the hatred radiating from her.

Again and again, I try to speak, but the paralyser won't let me. Tears fall from my eyes as I make a last attempt to get closer to Bex. "Don't touch me," she hisses, backing up against the door. "And don't ever speak, or come near me, again."

As I expect her to, she follows the others out of the Director's office.

I can't explain why I don't go after them all. Maybe it's the looks on their faces, maybe it's the way they spoke, maybe it's because, inside, I'm dying. An unbearable pain settles in my stomach, and I sink to the floor, sobbing.

Feeling a cold, strong hand on my back, I lift my head upwards and my eyes lock with the Director's cold, gray ones.

"Would you like the Disk now, sweetie?" he asks, in a sickly innocent voice.

Then a rage like I've never felt replaces the pain, and I stand up, fuming.

Although I can't speak, the Director can tell my change in mood. He smirks as I approach him, slowly, deciding whether to stab him with the sharp trophy that sits in the glass stand off to my left, or to throw him out the window and run over him, multiple times, with his own car.

Hatred etched onto my face, I walk around him and ruffle through one of his drawers. He's incredibly stupid and doesn't try to stop me.

"What are you doing, now, Hon?" the Director tries again, still with that _awful _smirk on his face.

I'm glad to see it's wiped off as I raise the gun and direct at his face.

Still barely able to speak, and hatred pumping through my veins, I manage, "G—bye".

And then I pull the trigger.

**And to that clever ****Anonymous Sadly ****haha I'm very sorry; I'm not American so I wrote it how we write dates down under… with the day first, then the month, and then the year **

**I'm considering going back and changing it, though, because, as I've said before, Cammie lives in the USA, so I try and make things how they do it ****(Just imagine it's the other way around!) :D**

**Thanks for pointing that out to me, though!**

**Oh, my God. I honestly didn't know this chapter would turn out like this…**

**Seriously! Ahh, it's scary how much they write themselves… Oookay, so I think the next chap will be the last **

**Thanks for reading! (And with the last chap, the Circle got in the same way Cammie did :) But they had planned it out more, so that they could shut off the security silently. Plus they have double agents working inside the CIA so that helped too)**


	22. Second

**Ah, I'm afraid the greater majority of you are correct. **

**My ending completely and utterly **_**sucked**_**. **

**No other way around it; it was awful. And it was a waste of time **

**So I decided to get off my lazy arse and write a second ending. **

**Maybe there'll be a sequel. Maybe not. Depends if you like this. And I do appreciate all of your honesty.**

**Ahhh, I apologise deeply for the bunch of crap which was ending number one.**

There's a light breeze sweeping the streets as I climb from the vent and jump onto the cracked pavement. Walking silently, I let my feet carry me on into the unknown.

Hot tears trickle down my face as I remember the looks on the faces of those I hold dearest.

Even my own _mother_ can't stand the sight of me.

I wipe away the tears impatiently, feeling so lost; so _alone._

Miserable, I wrap my arms around my stomach and gaze at the sunrise, which is casting a husky, warm glow over my surroundings.

But I don't feel its warmth. I only feel the complete despair that has taken over my soul.

My breath catches, and I come to a halt, as I see six familiar figures climbing into a sleek, black van.

Five of them clamber inside the van, but the last one turns, as if he feels my presence, and our eyes lock for an instant. Dark, gorgeous eyes, which look so _haunted _and _betrayed_, gaze into my own unremarkable blue ones. And, although I'm hidden in the early-morning shadows, recognition dawns in the darker pair.

But before I can register any emotion on his face, a voice within the van calls out, in a flat voice, "_Zach, come on."_

He tears his eyes away from me and then he slides into the back, slamming the door after himself.

I stand, frozen to the spot, for a few moments; my heart aching. I continue my slow walk, wishing with all my heart that everything is just a dream – or nightmare; that none of it really happened. But I know that only happens in the movies. I won't wake up soon and realise that it is all in my imagination. It's all true.

Seeing a piece of blank paper fluttering along in the cool breeze, a small – and rather pathetic – plan forms in my mind. It won't do over what has happened already, but hopefully it will do _something_.

Searching the pockets of the shorts I'm wearing, I find the stub of a pencil. I sit against the wall in a darkened alleyway, which the sunrise hasn't lit up yet, and bite my lip. The sun has risen slightly more now, making the area seem magical and perfect. But then a bird caws somewhere, bringing me out of my trance.

Sighing, I press the pencil against the paper and write what comes to my mind. Who knows if it will help? Perhaps it will only make things worse.

_Dear,_

Wait, scratch that.

_To Rebecca, Zachary, Rachel, Joseph, Elizabeth, Jonas, Grant and Macey,_

_You all hate me._

_And I don't blame you. You're good spies – the best there are – and so you don't trust anyone completely. Even less a pathetic, unexceptional girl who has made an absolute mess of her life, and who you suspect of being a traitor._

_I will respect your wishes – or rather, commands – and you will never see or hear from me again. You don't deserve the sort of pain that comes from seeing an old friend, who you despise, again._

_To Macey – Thankyou so dearly for everything you did to help me find Bex. You are a true friend, and you deserve all the happiness in the world. Thankyou for believing in me when no one else did._

_To Rebecca – You always were the best friend anyone could have. You always had my back, and I'm sorry for the hurt I've caused you. I hope you have a happier life now that I am gone from it._

_To Rachel – Yes, you're Rachel now. Why? Because, judging from the look I last saw on your face, I am no longer your daughter. And someone who doesn't have a daughter doesn't appreciate some random girl calling them 'mother'. You were – and still _are_ – my idol. Thankyou for being so brave and strong._

_To Grant – Oh, the good times we had at graduation. I'm sorry to say that we won't speak again. You always were the one to cheer me up. Thankyou for that._

_To Jonas – Your intelligence has always scared me. I hope you use it for good, and not for bad. Remember that you'll always be my friend. Thankyou for the times you made my day with a smart-alecky remark, or some weird statistic._

_To Elizabeth – Thankyou for helping me escape the CIA. Without you, everything would have gone wrong. Remember, even though you aren't out on the field, you work behind the scenes, and without you nothing would turn out right. What I'm trying to say is that you're essential. Thankyou for being an essential part of my life._

_To Joseph – I've lived without a father for so long I've almost forgotten what it feels like to have one. It's such a shame that I'll never experience that again. But thankyou for making my mother happy again; she deserves to be._

_To Zachary – I really believed we would have something after graduating. I actually believed that you would care about me. But then I had to go and stuff everything up. I thought I was protecting you all, but obviously I made things worse. There are so many things I need to thank you for, but I'll say the one I feel the most strongly about. Thankyou for letting me fall in love with you._

_Like I said, words mean nothing, really. But as of this moment onwards, the world has no Cameron Morgan; she simply does not exist. But add another lost, lonely girl to the tally, for that's what I am now; lost and lonely. _

_There's a time to live and a time to die,_

_A time to laugh and a time to cry_

_But most of all, there's the choice that I_

_Have decided to follow on this lonely night_

_I'll tell you many things that I am; I'm a coward, I'm unimportant, I'm a liar. But there's one thing I'm not._

_I'm not a traitor._

_-Cameron_

**Ugh, I'm cringing right now at my pathetic attempt (or rather **_**non**_**-attempt at an ending). I don't think it's worth a sequel. Not sure, yet.**

**Just to let you know, I'm deleting **_**that last chapter. **_**It's something I should be ashamed of, and I am. So, yeah, let's all 'Boo' it and be happy to watch it go.**

**Gah, clearly I'm not a good writer, because I have to explain that Cam is **_**not **_**a traitor. **

**The Director knew he'd end up losing, so, in one final attempt to turn Cam's friends away from her, he slips her a drug and kisses her, so that they think she's on his side.**

**Hmm… I hope you liked this ending a little better… Anyway, review if you did (or didn't). If it's been a another flop, I think I'll be too disheartened to write another one.**

**Thankyou bunches and bunches to my awesome readers and reviewers **

**~Jenna**


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